


The Potter Foundling

by DeadFoxy26



Series: Heyer Regency AUs [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Foundling - Georgette Heyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Good Dursley Family, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadFoxy26/pseuds/DeadFoxy26
Summary: The first of my Heyer novel rewrites. Combining my favourite regency novel with my favourite book series.





	1. Asserting Oneself

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything that you recognise. I am only responsible for mashing these two fandoms together in a way that probably shouldn't be done. This was written solely because both had an unpleasant character names Snape. There was no other reason than this.

CHAPTER 1:

When the young gentleman strolling through the park with his wand in his hand and an elderly kneazle at his heels came within sight of the castle it occurred to him that the hour must be farther advanced than he supposed, for the sun had sunk below the great stone pile, and an autumnal mist was already creeping over the ground. Among the trees the mist had scarcely perceptible, but when the gentleman emerged from their shelter on to an avenue which ran through undulating lawns to the south front of the mansion, he perceived that the vista was clouded, and became for the first time aware of a chill striking through his light cloak. He quickened his steps a little, but instead of pursuing his way to the main front, he turned off the avenue, and, traversing an elegant flower-garden, embellished with various classical statues, approached a side-entrance in the east wing.  
‘Hogwarts,’ read the guide book “Hogwarts: A History”, ‘is the principal seat of his Grace the Duke of Gryffindor and one of the oldest and most magical buildings in the civilised magical world.’ The History bestowed some very warm praise upon the White Marble Tomb, erected at enormous expense by the fifth Duke, but the young gentleman in the light day-cloak and the green summer robe passed it without a glance. Indeed, he seemed to be quite indifferent to the beauty and the grandeur of his surroundings, treading rather carelessly over neat grass borders, and permitting his kneazle to stray on to the flower-beds at will.  
In his person as much as in his dress, which besides being of great simplicity included a wrist-holster (an article of attire not at all in favour with gentlemen aspiring to elegance) he scarcely accorded with his stately setting. He was slightly built, and of rather less than medium height. He had dark black hair, which waved naturally above a countenance which was pleasing without being in any way remarkable. The features were delicate, the colouring rather pale, and the eyes, although expressive, and of a beautiful emerald green, were hidden behind a pair of ordinary round glasses. He carried himself well, but without any air of consequence, so that in a crowd it would have been easier to have passed him over than to have distinguished him. His address was well-bred, and a certain dignity attached to his bearing, but either from the circumstance of his being only seventeen years of age, or from a natural diffidence, his manner, without being precisely shy, was quiet to the point of self-effacement. In fact, tourists to whom he had occasionally been pointed out generally found it impossible to believe that such an unassuming figure could really be the owner of so much wealth and magnificence.  
But he had owned it for seventeen years, together with Number 12 Grimmauld Place, his town residence in London, and eight other country seats, ranging from Surrey to a draughty castle in the Highlands. He was the Most Noble Hadrian James Potter-Black, Duke of Gryffindor and Marquis of Godric’s Hollow; Earl of Gryffindor; Baron Slytherin of Diagon; Baron Slytherin of Mungo; and Baron Slytherin of Gringotts, and all of these high-sounding titles had been his from the moment of his birth, for he was a posthumous child, the only surviving offspring of the sixth Duke, and of the gentle, unfortunate lady who, after presenting her lord with two stillborn children, and three who did not survive infancy, expired in giving birth to a seven-months male child of such tiny size and sickly appearance that it was freely prophesied of him that he would join his little brothers and sisters in the family vault before the year was out.   
But the wise choice of a wet-nurse, the devotion of the Chief Nurse, the unremitting attentions of his doctors, the strict rule of his uncle and guardian, Lord Vernon Dursley, and the fond solicitude of his aunt, had all combined to drag the seventh Duke through every phase of infantile disorder; and although his boyhood was rendered irksome by a delicacy of constitution that made him liable to take cold easily, and to succumb with alarming readiness to every infectious disease, he had not only survived, but had grown into a perfectly healthy young man, who, if not as stout as could have been wished, or of such fine physique as his uncles and cousins, was yet robust enough to cause his physicians very little anxiety.  
The chief of these had more than once asserted his belief that the little Duke had a stronger constitution that was supposed, since his hold on life throughout been so tenacious; but this was an opinion not shared by the anxious relatives, tutors, and attendants who had the Duke in their charge. It was some years since he had suffered any but the most trifling of ailment, but his entourage still laboured under the conviction that he was a being to be cosseted and protected against every wind that blew.  
It was therefore not with surprise that the young Duke, as he reached the east wing of his castle, found that his approach had evidently been watched for. The door was flung open before he had set his foot upon the first of the stone steps that led up to it, and various persons were seen to have assembled in the passage to receive him. Foremost among these was his house-elf butler, Kreacher, an impressive and aged individual whose demeanour gave the initiated to understand that if his Grace chose to demean himself by entering his domain by a side door giving on to a narrow passage it was not for him to criticise such eccentric behaviour. He bowed the Duke in, and perceiving that he carried, besides his wand, an enchanted satchel, silently gestured to a footman to relieve his master of this unbecoming burden. The Duke gave it up with a faint, rueful smile.  
His head-keeper, a half-giant named Hagrid, said reproachfully: ‘If I had known that your Grace was desirous of wandering the Forbidden Forest today, I would have sent up for a centaur, and – ‘  
‘But I didn’t want a centaur,’ said the Duke.  
Hagrid shook his head forbearingly.  
‘I think,’ added the Duke, ‘that I might now and then – just now and then, you know, Hagrid! – explore the Forest for myself.’  
Even the footman looked shocked at this, but, being only an underling, could only exchange glances with the fellow footman who had accompanied him to the side entrance. The butler, the steward, and the keeper all directed looks of deep reproach at the Duke, and the small house-elf in the neat garb that proclaimed the valet exclaimed: ‘Explore the forest yourself, your Grace! I should think not indeed! And your Grace wet through, I daresay, with only that thin robe!’  
‘Oh, no!’ said the Duke. He looked down at the muddied kneazle, and added: ‘But Crookshanks must be rubbed down well.’ He was assured that this should be instantly be done; the steward, prefixing his intervention with a discreet cough, informed his master that my lord had been asking if he was not yet come in. The Duke had listened rather absently to his valet’s and his keeper’s remarks, but this had the effect of claiming his attention. He asked in a slightly apprehensive tone if he were late for dinner.  
The butler, who, although officially the human steward’s inferior, was an elf of far more commanding personality, replied somewhat ambiguously to this question that my lord had gone upstairs to change his dress above half an hour ago. The Duke looked startled, and said that he must make haste; whereupon the butler, relaxing his severity, assured him benignly that dinner would be held for him, and went in a stately way down the passage to open the door that led into the main entrance hall of the house. But the Duke again disappointed him, this time by electing to run up the secondary staircase at the end of the passage.  
His bedroom was an immense apartment behind a portrait of a statuesque lady dressed in pink, and as he crossed to the entrance he encountered his uncle, a ruddy-looking gentleman in the early fifties, with a stern cast of countenance, and rather fierce eyes above an impressive moustache. When he saw his nephew, his brows shot up and he enunciated, in a sort of bark: ‘Ha! So you are come in, are you, Harry?’  
The Duke smiled and nodded. ‘I beg pardon, sir! Am I late? I shall not keep you waiting above twenty minutes, I promise you.’  
‘No such thing!’ said Lord Vernon testily. ‘Dinner will await your convenience, but you are a great fool to be staying out after dusk at this season. I daresay you will have taken one of your chills!’  
‘Oh, no!’ replied the Duke, in the same sweet absent tone he had used to his valet.  
Lord Vernon ran a hand around the hood of the cloak, and appeared to be not dissatisfied. ‘Well!’ he said. ‘I don’t wish to be forever coddling you, boy, but I desire you will make haste out of those clothes. You will have got your feet wet in those half-boots. Dobby! Has his Grace no dragon-hide boots to wear when out?’  
‘His Grace will not wear the dragon-hide, my lord’ said the valet in condemnatory accents. ‘And his Grace did not send for me to lay out his clothes, nor appraise me of his intention to go exploring,’ he added, less in self-exculpation than in sorrowful blame of his young master’s imprudence.  
‘I am glad you do not wish to be waited on hand and foot,’ said Lord Vernon severely, ‘but this habit you have of slipping off without a word is nonsensical, Harry. One would suppose you were afraid someone might prevent you!’ A gleam of humour lit the Duke’s eyes; he said meekly: ‘I think I must have a secretive disposition, sir.’  
‘Nothing of the sort!’ said his lordship. ‘It is high time you realised that you are of age, and may do as you please. Now, be off, and make haste, if you please! Unless you wish to keep town hours at Hogwarts?’ The Duke disclaimed any such desire, and vanished into his bedchamber, where Dobby had already laid out his evening dress.  
The room, although of vast size, was very warm, for a fire had been lit in the grate earlier in the day, and the windows closed against any treacherous fresh air. Curtains of crimson damask shut out the fading daylight, and the great fourpost-bed was hung with the same stuff. Branches of candles stood on the dressing-table and the mantelpiece; and a silver ewer of hot water had been placed in the wash-basin, and covered with a clean towel. The room was furnished throughout in crimson damask, and mahogany, and everything in it seemed to be made on a rather too large and opulent scale for its occupant. But it was not an uncomfortable apartment, and, during the day, was generally flooded with sunshine, since it faced south, commanding a view of the Black Lake and, in the distance, the noble trees of the Forbidden Forest. The Duke had slept in it ever since the day his uncle had decreed that he was too old for the nursery and installed him, a small and quaking ten-year-old, in it, telling him that it was his father’s room and that only the head of house might inhabit it.  
Dobby, who might have been considered by some to be rather too eccentric a house-elf for such a distinguished young man, began to bustle about, scolding fondly as he divested his master of his cloak and wrist-holster. Like nearly everyone else who waited upon the Duke, he had previously been employed by the Duke’s father, and considered himself privileged to speak his mind to his master whenever he was out of earshot of other, less favoured, members of the household. He said now, as he laid aside the wrist-holster: ‘I wonder that my lord should not have said something to your Grace, if he noticed you was wearing this nasty, low holster, more fit for a Knockturn Alley dweller than for a Gentleman, let alone one that was born, as the saying is, in the Purple. But there! Tell your Grace until Doomsday you’ll never mend your ways! And why would you not take a centaur, pray, not to mention Hagrid? I can tell your Grace he was quite put about to think you should be off without him, and very likely needing a centaur as well.’  
‘No, I didn’t need a centaur,’ said the Duke, sitting down to allow Dobby to pull off his half-boots. ‘And as for my wrist-holster, I daresay some might consider it a vulgar appendage, but it speeds up my draw and is as quick a way of casting as any that I know.’  
‘If you had taken a centaur with you, as was befitting, your Grace would not have needed any such,’ said Dobby severely. ‘I could see that his lordship was not best pleased.’  
‘I am sure he was not displeased for any such cause,’ responded the Duke, walking towards the washstand, and lifting the towel from the ewer. ‘He is a great advocate for a man’s being able to do everything for himself that may come in his way.’  
‘That,’ said Dobby, frustrating the Duke’s attempt to pick up the ewer, ‘is as may be, your Grace.’ He poured the water into the basin, and removed the towel from the Duke’s hand. ‘But when his lordship takes his walks out, he has always a centaur, and very likely several of them, for he is one as knows what is due to his position.  
‘Well, if I do not know what is due to mine I am sure it is not for want of being told,’ sighed the Duke. ‘I think it would have been very pleasant to have been born one of my own tenants, sometimes.’  
‘Born one of your Grace’s own tenants!’ ejaculated Dobby, in an astonished tone. The Duke took the towel, and began to wipe his wet face with it.  
‘Not one of those obliged to live in Privet Drive, of course,’ he said reflectively.  
‘Privet Drive!’  
‘In Surrey.’  
‘I do not know what your Grace can be meaning!’  
‘They are forever complaining about them. I daresay they should all be pulled down. In fact, I am sure of it, for I have seen them.’  
‘Seen them, your Grace?’ said Dobby, quite shocked. ‘I am sure I do not know when you can have done so!’  
‘When we were in Surrey, I rode over,’ replied the Duke tranquilly.  
‘Now that,’ said Dobby in a displeased way, ‘is just what your Grace should not be doing! It is Mr Griphook who should attend to such matters, as I am sure he is willing and able to do, let alone he has his goblins to be running about the country for him!’  
‘Only he does not attend to it,’ said the Duke, sitting down before his dressing-table. Dobby handed him a smarter pair of spectacles. ‘Then your Grace may depend upon it there is nothing as needs attending to,’ he said.  
‘You remind me very much of uncle,’ remarked the Duke. Dobby shook his head at him, but said: ‘Well, and I’ll be bound his lordship has told your Grace there isn’t a better agent than Mr Griphook in the length and breadth of the land.’  
‘Oh, yes!’ said the Duke. ‘Nothing could exceed his care for my interests.’  
‘Well, and what more could your Grace desire?’  
‘I think it would be very agreeable if he cared for my wishes.’ A slightly weary note in his master’s quiet voice made Dobby say with fond affection: ‘Now, your Grace, I see what it is! You have tired yourself out, wandering through that forest with not a centaur in sight, and you’re in a fit of the dismals! If Mr Griphook don’t seem always to care for your wishes, it’s because your Grace is young yet, and don’t know the ways of tenants, nor what’s best for your estates.’  
‘Very true,’ said the Duke in a colourless voice. Dobby helped him to put on his evening robes. ‘Your Grace’s honoured father had every confidence in Mr Griphook, that I do know,’ he said.  
‘Oh, yes!’ said the Duke. Feeling that his master was still unconvinced, Dobby began to recite the numerous virtues of the goblin agent, but after a few moments the Duke interrupted him, saying: ‘Well, never mind! Have we company tonight?’  
‘No, your Grace, you will be quite alone.’  
‘It sounds delightful, but I am afraid it is untrue.’  
‘No, no, your Grace, it is just as I tell you! You will find no one below but my lord, and my lady, and Mr Diggle and Miss Figg!’ Dobby assured him. The Duke smiled, but refrained from making any remark. He submitted to having his cloak smoothed across his shoulders and moved towards the door. Dobby opened this for him, and nodded to an individual hovering in the hall outside, who at once withdrew, apparently to spread the news of the Duke’s coming. He was the Groom of the Chambers, and although more modern households might have abolished this position, at Hogwarts a pomp belonging to previous centuries was rigidly adhered to, and the groom continued to hold his post. During the long period of the Duke’s minority he had had little scope for his talents, but he was now hopeful of seeing the great house once more full of distinguished guests, all with their exacting personal servants, and their quite incompatible fads and fancies, driving a lesser man to suicide but affording Mr Macmillan an exquisite enjoyment.  
The Duke walked down the stairs, and crossed a vast, flagstone-paved hall to the double doors that led into the gallery. Here it had been the custom of the Family to assemble before dinner since the Duke’s grandfather had inhabited the castle. As the gallery was over a hundred foot long, it had sometimes seemed to the Duke that some smaller apartment might be a preferable assembly room on any but Public Days, but a mild suggestion made to this effect had been greeted by his uncle with such disapproval that with his usual docility he had abandoned any hope of making a change.  
Two enchanted suits of armour, who appeared to have been trying to impersonate their motionless counterparts, suddenly sprang to life, and flung open the doors; the Duke, dwarfed by their height and magnificence, passed between them into the gallery.  
Since September was drawing to an end and the evenings were already a little chilly, a log-fire had been kindled in the grate at one end of the gallery. Lord Vernon Dursley was standing before it, not precisely with his watch in his hand, but presenting the appearance of one who had but that moment restored the timepiece to his pocket. Beside him, and making a praiseworthy if not entirely successful attempt to divert his mind from the lateness of the hour, was Dedalus Diggle, once tutor to the Duke, now his Historian, and engaged in the intervals of his not very arduous duties in writing a learned commentary on the Founders of Hogwarts and their influence on Wizarding Culture. On a pink floral sofa, wholly shielded from the fire by her husband’s stalwart form, was disposed the Duke’s aunt, a lady fashioned in a thin, stick-like mould with a long neck and pale blonde hair. And sitting primly upright in a chair suitably withdrawn from the intimate circle was Miss Figg, a spinster of uncertain age and nebulous relationship, who was always referred to by Lady Petunia as ‘our cousin’ and had been an inmate of Hogwarts as long as the Duke could remember, performing the duties of a lady-in-waiting. As Lady Dursley was extremely indolent, Miss Figg was not in the least overworked, or browbeaten, the only ills she had to endure being her ladyship’s very boring conversation, and his lordship’s snubs, which last, however, were dealt out so impartially to every member of the household as to make her feel herself to be quite one of the family.  
But the Duke, who had, his uncle frequently told him, too much sensibility, could not rid himself of the notion that Miss Figg’s position was an unhappy one, and he never neglected to bestow on her a distinguishing degree of attention, or to acknowledge a relationship which did not, in fact, exist, by addressing her as Cousin Arabella. When his uncle pointed out to him, not in a carping spirit, but as one who liked accuracy, that being only some kind of a third cousin to Lord Vernon her connexion with the Potter family was of the most remote order, he merely smiled, and slid out of a possible argument in a manner rendered perfect by years of practice.  
As he walked down the gallery, he smiled at her, and inquired after the headache she had complained of earlier in the day. While she blushed, thanked, and disclaimed, Lord Vernon crushingly remarked that he did not know why people should have headaches, since he himself had never suffered such an ill in his life; and Mr Diggle pleased nobody by saying: ‘Ah, my lord Duke has a fellow-feeling, I daresay! I am sure no one has suffered more from an affliction we more hardy mortals are exempt from!’  
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Lord Vernon, who very much disliked to have his nephew’s delicacy of constitution mentioned by anyone other than himself.  
Mr Diggle’s well-meaning if unfortunate remark had the effect of arousing Lady Petunia from her customary lethargy, and she began to enumerate, with a surprising degree of animation, all the more shocking headaches her nephew had endured during his sickly boyhood. The Duke bore this patiently, but Lord Vernon pshawed and fidgeted, and finally broke in on the discourse that threatened to be never-ending, saying crossly: ‘Very well, very well, my pet, but this is all forgotten now, and we do not wish to be reminding Harry of it! Were you ingredient-gathering, my boy? Had you any sport?’  
‘Three vials of acromantula venom only, and some unicorn hair, sir,’ responded the Duke.  
‘Very well indeed,’ said his uncle approvingly. ‘I have frequently observed that for all it may not be real game as we understand it, the acromantula gives us some of the hardest shots of all. What spells did you use?’  
‘Arania Exumai,’ said the Duke.  
This made Lord Vernon shake his head a little, and point out the advantages of ‘Sectumsempra’ or ‘Bombarda’. His nephew, having listened politely, said that he would grant him an accidental shot at long distance with his heavier spells, but that a well-maintained and aimed wand would execute ‘Arania Exumai’ better than any other. As the duke was a very pretty shot, Lord Vernon allowed this to pass with no more than a glancing reference to new-fangled fads, and asked him if he had taken one of his Cleansweeps out.  
‘No, but I considered taking a Nimbus,’ said the Duke. ‘I have been attempting a Wronski Feint with it.’  
‘I have bought Cleansweeps any time these thirty years,’ declared his lordship. ‘But the old ways will never do for you young men! I suppose you will tell me this Nimbus has some particular virtue!’  
‘I think the control is lighter to the touch, and it is certainly cleaner to handle,’ replied the Duke.  
‘I hope, Harry, that you did not get your feet wet?’ said Lady Petunia. ‘You know, if you were to take a chill it will go straight to your throat, and I was thinking only the other day that I cannot recall the name of that very obliging healer who recommended Pepper-Up. You were only a child, so I daresay you might not remember, but it was very excellent, though your uncle disliked it very much.’  
‘Does Kreacher not know that you are ready for dinner?’ demanded Lord Vernon loudly. ‘It will be six o’clock before we sit down to it!’  
‘There was quite a fashion for Pepper-Ups at that time,’ pursued his wife placidly. ‘I am sure I know of a dozen persons who swore by the daily treatment.’  
‘It was what the Captain calls all the crack,’ said Miss Figg, prefixing her remark with the titter which never failed to irritate his lordship.  
Lord Vernon was both fond and proud of his son, but he did not propose to submit to having his words quoted to him, and he immediately said that he had the greatest dislike of cant expressions. Miss Figg’s subsequent confusion was only relieved by the entrance of Kreacher, who came in at that moment to announce that dinner was served. The Duke then assisted his aunt to rise from the sofa, Miss Figg draped an acromantula-silk shawl around her shoulders, Mr Diggle handed her her fan and her reticule, and the whole party filed out into the hall, and across it to the dining-saloon.  
Here, the Duke took his place at the head of the table, in an immense carved oak chair, and Lord Vernon installed himself in a similar chair at the foot. Lady Petunia sat at her nephew’s right hand, and Miss Figg and Mr Diggle established themselves opposite to her, with only one footman between the two of them.  
Lord Dursley being an advocate of what he considered a neat, plain dinner, only two courses were served at Hogwarts when the family dined alone. The first of these consisted of a tureen of turtle, removed with fish, which was in its turn removed with a haunch of venison. Several side-dishes, such as pork cutlets, larded fillets of beef, tenderones of veal and truffles, and a braised ham graced the board, but since his lordship was a moderate trencherman and the Duke had a notoriously small appetite, the only person who did justice to the spread was Miss Figg, who had (so his lordship had more than once remarked to his nephew) the inordinate appetite of all poor relations.  
While the first course dragged on its way, conversation was of a desultory nature. The Duke looked tired; his aunt rarely troubled herself to make conversation; and Lord Vernon seemed preoccupied. When the first course was carried out in procession, however, he roused himself to say: ‘Well! You are all very dull tonight!’ a remark which not unnaturally bereft the assembled company of any conversational ideas they might have had.  
‘Well, Harry!’ said his lordship, after a pause of which no one showed any sign of wishing to take advantage. ‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’  
A slightly apprehensive look came into the Duke’s eyes. Mr Diggle said kindly: ‘I fancy you are tired, my lord.’  
‘No, no!’ Harry disclaimed, almost shrinking from the imputation.  
It had the effect of softening Lord Dursley. ‘Tired? I am sure I do not know why you must all be for ever supposing him knocked up by the least exertion! Let me tell you, it is very irksome to a young man to have such nonsense talked of him! You are bored, Harry! Yes, yes, you need not trouble to deny it, for I do not wonder at it! You should have invited some of your House friends to come down and duel with you. It is dull work for you here alone.’  
‘Thank you, I am very happy, sir!’ Harry stammered. ‘ You – I mean, we have invited several parties for the Quidditch games, I believe.’  
‘Well, well, that is looking some way ahead!’ said his lordship indulgently. ‘You will scarcely wish for any large parties until November!’  
The second course here made its appearance, and a fresh array of golden dishes was set out. Some pigeons and a hare constituted the main features, but there were besides a quantity of vegetables, and several creams, jellies, and cakes, including, as Miss Figg was quick to perceive, a pumpkin meringue, to which she was extremely partial.  
Lady Petunia helped herself from a dish of artichoke bottoms in sauce. ‘I have been thinking,’ she said. ‘If you should care for it, Harry, we could get up a round of chess after dinner. I daresay we might prevail upon our good Mr Diggle to take a game, and if he does not care to, Arabella does not play so very ill.’  
Her husband set his wineglass down rather hurriedly, and said with more haste than civility that she must know that Harry disliked chess. Then, perceiving cards in her eye, he added: ‘Or any other dinner-party game. Besides, I have just recollected that Winky brought down the mail from the owlery this afternoon, and there is a letter for you from your Uncle Lucius, Harry. I will give it to you after dinner.’  
The Duke’s entertainment having been thus provided for, Lady Petunia was able to relapse into indolence, merely wondering in an idle fashion what Lord Malfoy could be writing to Harry about. Miss Figg said that it seemed a long time since they had had the felicity of seeing dear Lord and Lady Malfoy at Hogwarts; and Mr Diggle asked if Mr Draco was not now apprenticing under a potions master.  
‘No, he is entering the Ministry,’ the Duke replied.  
‘My nephew is going into politics,’ said Lord Vernon shortly. ‘As for not having seen my cousin and his wife here, they spent six weeks with us in the summer, and brought all the relatives, as I for one am not likely to forget very readily! They destroyed the south lawn with their impromptu duels, and if they had been children of mine – ‘  
‘But they asked my permission, sir, and I gave it,’ Harry said, in a soft voice.  
Lord Vernon opened his mouth to utter a blistering reproof, recollected himself, shut it again, and, after a slight pause, said: ‘Well, it is your lawn, and you may do as you wish with it, but I own I cannot conceive what you were about to give permission!’  
A rather mischievous smile lit the Duke’s eyes; he looked under his lashes at his uncle, and replied: ‘I think it was perhaps because I have wanted very often to practice my duels there myself.’  
‘Yes! And you would thank me for it today, I daresay, had I allowed you and Dudley to ruin one of the finest pieces of turf in the country!’ said his lordship.  
Miss Figg, having by this time disposed of her portion of pumpkin meringue, Lady Petunia rose from her chair. The Duke picked up such small articles as she dropped, the doors were held open, and both ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to their wine.  
The covers having been removed, the cloth swept away, and decanters set upon the table, the servants left the room, and Lord Vernon settled down to enjoy his fire-whiskey in what he termed comfort, and his nephew thought to be great discomfort. The fire behind him was beginning to be unpleasantly hot, the ornate carving of his chair made leaning back in it a penance, despite a covertly cast cushioning charm, and he was not fond of fire-whiskey.  
Lord Dursley began to talk of some improvements to one of the Duke’s estates, which the agent-in-chief thought might be advantageous. ‘You should see Griphook yourself, Harry,’ he said. ‘You know, you must not forget that in less than a year now you will have the management of everything in your own hands. I am very anxious you should acquaint yourself with all the business of your estates.’  
‘Dear me, yes!’ said Mr Diggle, sipping his wine delicately. ‘It is very true, though I may scarcely credit it! My dear lord, you will indeed be eighteen next year! Yet it seems only yesterday that I was so fortunate as to be chosen to be your chief tutor and historian!’  
‘I have never had the least doubt that I made a wise choice,’ said his lordship graciously, ‘but what I am saying is that my nephew must not look to be guided for many months more. You have a thousand amiable qualities, Harry, but you lack decision of character!’  
The Duke did not deny the accusation. He felt it to be true, but he could scarcely repress a shudder at the thought of the painful scenes that must have taken place at Hogwarts had he been endowed with the same forceful personality that distinguished his uncle. His cousin Dudley had it in some measure, and had certainly won his father’s respect with it; but Dudley had always been a robust and pugnacious boy, and was quite untroubled by more sensitive matters. He had cared for being thrashed as little as for being rated. The Duke had never known which of the two fates he dreaded most. Fortunately for him, Lord Dursley treated him with far more gentleness than he showed his son, so that he was not really at all afraid of him. But a naturally kind disposition and a dislike of excessive attention, combined with a rueful appreciation of the very real devotion to his interest and welfare that inspired his uncle’s strict rule made him submit much more docilely where his cousin would have flamed into revolt.  
‘You are the head of the family, Harry,’ Lord Vernon said. ‘You must learn to assert yourself. I have done all that a man may to train and educate you for the position you must occupy, but you are by far too diffident.’  
Mr Diggle shook his head reminiscently. ‘Indeed, there are few young men today who can boast of my lord Duke’s advantages,’ he said. ‘But I for one feel sure, sir, that he will prove himself worthy of your unremitting solicitude.’  
The Duke thought of the period of his boyhood, spent largely at his house near Mungo, so that he might derive the benefit of the healers there; of three years at the Auror academy, two of which were spent with the most paranoid ex-Auror on the planet jumping out at random moments to hex him in order to sharpen his reflexes; of another year under the tutelage of a portly, interfering potions master; and suddenly he made up his mind to assert himself, even if only in a small matter. He pushed back his chair, and said: ‘Shall we join my aunt now?’  
‘Really, Harry, you must see that I have not yet finished my glass!’ said Lord Vernon. ‘Do not, I beg of you, get into a scrambling way of doing things! You should always make sure that the company is ready to rise before you give the signal.’  
‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said the Duke, abandoning the attempt to assert himself.


	2. A comfortable prose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life begins to unfold in unplanned ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter, not much happens, but it's necessary to get the story moving.

Chapter 2:

When the gentlemen at last joined the ladies, they found them established before the fire in the Hufflepuff Saloon, one of a handsome suite of reception rooms on the first floor. Lady Petunia had sent for some working-candles, and her embroidery frame, upon which latter Miss Figg was engaged in setting stitches of various coloured silks. Her ladyship rarely occupied herself with anything more fatiguing than knotting a fringe, but by constantly desiring to have her embroidery brought to her, choosing the silks, and criticising the design, she was easily able to persuade herself that she was an indefatigable worker, and would receive compliments upon her skill with perfect complaisance.  
Mr Diggle went over to Miss Figg’s side, to observe what progress she had made; and while Lady Petunia informed him for perhaps the tenth time that the work was destined to form a tapestry for the third-floor corridor, her husband gave Harry the letter from his distant uncle, and waited expectantly for it to be handed over to him when Harry had finished his perusal of it.  
Harry read it in some little surprise. Lord Lucius wrote to inform his relative of a very desirable connexion he was about to form through the betrothal of his only niece to a scion of a distinguished family. He ended by expressing the hope that the proposed alliance would meet with the Duke’s approval.  
The Duke gave up this letter to Lord Vernon in a mechanical way, and his lordship, casting his eye over it, said: ‘Ha! I suspected as much! Professor Lupin, eh? Pretty well for a chit not out of the auror academy yet!’  
‘I cannot conceive why he should write to tell me of it,’ remarked the Duke.  
Lord Vernon looked up from the letter to direct an admonishing frown at him. ‘Naturally he would do so! It is a very proper letter. You will write your felicitations, of course, and say that you are very well pleased with the connexion.’  
‘But he will not care a button whether I am pleased or not,’ objected the Duke, with a touch of impatience.   
‘Pray do not let me have these odd humours!’ begged his lordship irascibly. ‘One would suppose you do not attend to anything that is said to you, Potter! I have been telling you for ever that you are the head of the family, and must learn to take your place as such, and now you talk rubbishing stuff to me of your relative’s not caring a button for your approval! If you are so lost to the sense of what is due to your position, you must perceive that he is not! A very pretty letter he has written you: expresses himself just as he ought! I must say, I had not thought he would have contrived such an elegant match for that girl – not but what it is not precisely what I should have cared for myself.’  
‘No,’ agreed Harry, taking his letter again. ‘Nymphadora is not yet twenty-five, and I am sure Remus Lupin must be forty if he is a day.’  
‘Well, well, that need not signify!’ said Lord Vernon. ‘The thing is that I have never fancied that pack of Lupins. There is werewolf blood in them all; came into the family when the old man – Lupin’s grandfather, I mean: you would not recall – insulted a Greyback. However, it is none of my business!’  
The Duke said a little impishly: ‘Very true, sir, but if it is mine I think I should inform Lord Malfoy that I do not like the match. Poor Dora! I’m sure she cannot wish for it!’  
Lord Dursley audibly drew a breath. In the voice of one restraining himself with a strong effort, he said: ‘You will not, I trust, be guilty of such a piece of impertinence, Potter! Pray, what should a young man of your age know about the matter?’  
‘But you told me, sir, that I must learn to assert myself,’ said the Duke meekly.  
‘Let me assure you, Harry, that that kind of nonsense is beyond the line of being pleasing!’ said Lord Vernon sternly. ‘You must be perfectly well aware that this very proper letter of Malfoy’s is the merest formality, and not to be taken as an excuse for you to be putting yourself forward in a very unbecoming way! A fine state of affairs it would be if a man of your uncle’s age and experience is to be told how he is to manage his household by a young jackanapes of a relative! You will write to him as I have directed, and mind you write it fair, and not in one of your scrawls! You had better let me see the letter before it is sealed.’  
‘Very well, sir,’ said the Duke.  
Perceiving that he had quite banished the smile from his nephew’s eyes, Lord Vernon relented, saying in a kindlier tone: ‘There is no need to be cast into a fit of dejection because I am obliged to give you a scold, boy. There, we shall say no more about it! Give the letter to your aunt to read, and come into the library with me. I have something I wish to say to you.’  
The Duke looked extremely apprehensive on hearing these ominous words, but he obediently handed over the letter to Lady Dursley, and followed his uncle down the corridors to the library on the entrance floor. Since the candles had already been lit, and a fire made in one of the fireplaces, it was apparent to him that this interview had been premeditated. Insensibly he braced himself to meet it with becoming fortitude.  
‘Sit down, Harry!’ said Lord Vernon, treading over to the fire, and taking up his favourite position before it. This command was less unnerving than earlier ones (delivered in ferocious accents) to stand up straight and put his hands behind his back, but the prospect of having to sit in a low chair while his uncle loomed over him was almost equally daunting. The Duke’s apprehensive look deepened and although he did sit down, it was with obvious reluctance.  
‘You know, Harry,’ he said, ‘that letter of Malfoy’s comes remarkably pat.’  
The Duke’s eyes lifted quickly to his face. ‘Yes, sir?’  
‘Yes, my boy. You will be of full age in less than a year now, and it is high time we were thinking of settling your affairs comfortably.’  
The Duke was aware of a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He kept his eyes fixed on his uncle’s face. ‘Yes, sir?’  
For once in his life, Lord Dursley seemed disinclined to come speedily to the point of his discourse. He shifted uncomfortably and said: ‘I have always tried to do my best for you, boy. I daresay you may sometimes have thought me harsh – ‘  
‘Oh, no!’ said the Duke faintly.  
‘Well, I am happy to hear you say so, for I am very fond of you, Harry, and always have been. I have no scruple in telling you that apart from your health, and a want of spirits in you, you have never caused me anxiety.’  
The Duke, feeling that a response was expected, stammered: ‘Th-thank you, sir!’  
‘I don’t say that you are as wise as I could wish,’ said Lord Vernon, tempering his praise, ‘or that you have not a great many faults, but on the whole I fancy your poor parents might have been not dissatisfied with their son, had they lived to see you today.’ As Harry was unable to think of anything to say to that, an uneasy silence prevailed. Lord Vernon broke it. ‘Your parents left you to our guardianship,’ he said, ‘and I think I may say that I have in every way open to me followed out what I knew to be their wishes. I even had you christened Hadrian,’ he added, a slight sense of grievance overcoming him, ‘although it is a new-fangled name rather than a traditional family name, which I very much dislike. However, that was a small thing, and you know I have never called you by it. And I have never permitted Lucius to interfere in your education, for all he has been one of your trustees. I have nothing to say against Lord Malfoy, and no doubt his notions do very well for his own son, but they will not do for me, and they would not have done for your parents either, and a thousand pities it was that his name should have been included in the Trust. But there is no sense repining over that, and I hope I know how to deal with my own cousin.’  
The Duke, drawing upon his recollection, could not feel that his hope was misplaced, but he did not think himself called upon to say so. Instead he uttered an indistinguishable murmur.  
‘There is no reason why you should be treated like a child, Harry,’ said Lord Vernon, in a burst of candour, ‘so I shall not conceal from you that I have a very poor opinion of Lucius’ judgement! He does not want, precisely, for sense, but you must know that he never partook of the family’s sentiments as one could have wished he might have done, and when he married that foolish woman – but I do not wish to dwell upon that, and if he chose to ally himself with a female from the more dubious branch of the Black family, and to associate with a brood of ill-conditioned relatives who can think of nothing better to do than ruin a lawn it has taken fifty years to bring to perfection, I am sure it is not for me to cavil. Although, mind you,’ he added admonishingly, ‘I told him how it would be at the outset. But Lucius was never one to listen to those who might be supposed to be a little wiser than himself. I trust you will not turn out to be the same, Harry.’  
The Duke assured him that he would not.  
‘No, well, I fancy I have drilled a few proper notions into your head,’ agreed his uncle. ‘But all this has nothing to do with what I have to say to you!’ He bent his austere gaze upon Harry’s downcast face, and was silent for a moment. ‘I am speaking of your marriage, Harry,’ he said abruptly.  
The Duke looked up, startled. ‘My marriage, sir!’  
‘There is nothing to be surprised about in that, surely!’ said Lord Vernon. ‘It is not, I fancy, unknown to you that I have already made certain arrangements on your behalf. I do not believe in making a secret of a very ordinary business, and since I am quite as much concerned with the question of your future comfort and happiness as with the very important one of securing the succession, I have been careful to choose for you a bride who will bring you, besides the necessary advantages of birth and magic, a reasonable chance of harmony in your future life. In this, I hope you will realise, my boy, that I have had all these modern notions with which I make no doubt you are imbued in my head. You are not to suppose that my mind was irrevocably fixed upon the first and most obvious choice. I have had several young females in my eye, but I believe they will not do for you, and it is now some years since I have entertained any other idea than that you should, as soon as you have come of full age, marry Lady Ginevra Weasley.’  
The Duke got up suddenly, and said in some little agitation: ‘Yes – no! It has not been unknown to me. But the succession cannot be in danger, sir, while my cousin Dudley, and indeed, my Uncle Lucius’ relatives – ‘  
‘Do not talk to me of your Uncle Lucius!’ commanded Lord Dursley wrathfully. ‘If all those relations are to take after Draco, who, I am hearing, is for ever in some disgraceful scrape, as I have very little doubt they will do, for what can one expect, if a man will marry a Black of that level? – I can only say that I am astonished you should entertain the notion of seeing one of them in your shoes for as much as a moment!’  
‘But I should not see them in my shoes,’ pointed out the Duke reasonably. ‘And really, you know, sir, Draco’s scrapes cannot be called disgraceful! And in any event I am sure that Dudley would fill my shoes far better than I could ever do. Surely –‘  
‘You may put that out of your head once and for all!’ said Lord Vernon, in his sternest voice. ‘Understand me, Harry, I have never thought to see my son in your place, and nothing could more distress me than the knowledge that it must come to that end! I venture to say that Dudley shares my sentiments to the full. I do not know what cause he can have given you to suppose –‘  
‘None! Oh, none!’ Harry said hurriedly. ‘I only meant – I only wished to say – that it cannot be thought necessary for me to marry so soon!’  
‘So soon?’ repeated his uncle, raising his brows. ‘My dear boy, it has been an understood thing between myself and Weasley any time these five years! I make no doubt the young lady herself is fully aware of it, for her mother is a woman of great good sense, and will have made it her business to prepare the girl for the position she is destined to occupy.’  
‘You think that Ginny herself knows of it?’ the Duke said, in a stunned voice.  
‘Certainly. Why should she not?’ replied his uncle. ‘If you have some romantic notion in your head, I advise you to rid yourself of it, boy. Romantic notions do very well in a trashy novel, and I daresay they may not come amiss among the lesser ranks of society, but they are not for persons of our order, and that you may depend upon. Yes, yes, you think me very unfeeling, I daresay, but you may believe me when I tell you that I have seen more unhappiness arising out of a so-called love-match than from any other cause in this world. I dare swear you, at seventeen, and with your head full of nonsense, have not half as much idea of what will suit you as I have. But don’t imagine, Harry, that I would tie you up to someone for whom you feel the least degree of dislike! You cannot have failed to notice that your aunt and I have taken every opportunity of inviting the Weasleys to Hogwarts. I have encouraged you to visit them, and you have not been backward in accepting invitations to the Burrow. I have made it my business to observe you narrowly, and I own that I shall be surprised to learn that you are wholly indifferent to Lady Ginevra.’  
The Duke grasped the back of a chair. He looked even paler than was natural in him, and acutely unhappy. ‘No, indeed! I have the greatest regard – She has always been most amiable – But marriage – !’  
‘Come, Harry!’ said Lord Vernon, a little impatiently, ‘you do not mean to tell me that you had never considered the question! You knew very well that the matter was arranged!’  
‘Yes,’ the Duke said, in a hollow tone. ‘Yes, I did know. Only I hoped – I thought –‘  
‘Well, and what did you think and hope?’  
‘I don’t know,’ said the Duke helplessly. ‘Only that perhaps something would occur – or some other man offer – or – or that it might not be quite yet!’  
His uncle looked shrewdly at him. ‘Have you a spark for some other female, Harry?’ he asked.  
The Duke shook his head.  
‘Well, I thought you had not, for you have never been in the petticoat-line, but you need not scruple to tell me so if I have been mistaken.’ He waited, but the Duke only shook his head. ‘Then what is the matter? Be open with me, I beg of you!’  
‘I hardly know. I do not mean to say anything in Ginny’s disparagement! I have always been excessively attached to her, ever since we were children. She is everything that is engaging and lively. Indeed, she is all adventure and good-nature, and is very pretty besides, but – but I had thought that when I came to marry I should choose a wife for myself, a lady for whom I felt – with whom I might be in love, sir!’  
‘Oho! Here is a high flight!’ said his uncle rather amused. ‘And where is this fine lady?’  
‘I have not met one. I –‘  
‘I am happy to hear it, for if any one thing is more to be depended on than another is that she would be quite ineligible! We have all our youthful fancies, Harry, but it will not answer to be fashioning our lives on them. Now, you are not a schoolboy. You have been about the world a little: I took care that you should do so. You have been presented and taken your seat in the Wizengamot, you have travelled, you have had training in London. Had you formed an attachment for some female it would not have surprised me in the least, and had your affections become fixed upon some eligible object you would not have found me unreasonable. But although you have met any number of suitable young witches, none has succeeded in capturing your fancy. I do not feel that in urging you to come to the point with Weasley I am tying you up in matrimony before you have had time to know your own mind.’  
‘Do you mean that I shall never feel – a – a stronger degree of attachment for a female than – than-‘  
‘My dear Harry, this is being foolish without permission! In plain terms, the sort of passion you have in mind has little to do with marriage. I grant that to be obliged to live with a woman whom you held in aversion would be a sad fate, but we need not consider that. You own that you are not indifferent to Lady Ginevra. For a witch, I believe her to have a superior understanding. Her power is impressive, and if you meant to object that there is a lack of grounding in her I would point out to you that you have very odd humours yourself.’  
‘Oh, yes, yes!’ interrupted Harry. ‘But –‘  
Lord Vernon held up his hand. ‘No, listen to what I have to say to you, my boy! You think I do not enter into your feelings upon this occasion, but you are mistaken. I shall be plain with you. In Lady Ginevra you will not find yourself saddled with a wife who will expect more from you than you are inclined to give. She is a very well brought-up girl; and while, on the one hand, I am satisfied that she will conduct herself, as Duchess of Hogwarts, with grace and discretion, she will not expect you to be always at her side. In short, you may be assured of a well-conducted household with a capable woman at its head.’  
‘Do you suppose, sir,’ said Harry, in an extinguished tone, ‘that it is with such sentiments as these that Ginny thinks of marriage with me – or – or with another?’  
‘I have been acquainted with Molly Weasley any time these twenty years,’ responded Lord Vernon readily, ‘and I entertain no fears that Ginevra has been allowed to fill her head with romantical stuff and nonsense. I daresay Lady Weasley may have some faults –‘  
‘I have always thought her the most interfering woman I have ever met!’ the Duke said.  
‘Well, well, now you are in your high ropes again! She is an ambitious woman, but she has a great deal of common-sense, after all!’  
The Duke released the chairback, and took a turn about the room. He was evidently agitated, and his uncle allowed him to walk about for a few minutes before saying: ‘If you dislike it so very much, Harry, you should have told me of it earlier. To draw back at this late date will be as bad as to declare off.’  
The Duke turned a startled face towards him. ‘Oh, no, surely not!’  
‘It has been understood between the two families for some years, and from what I hear the announcement of your engagement is pretty widely expected.’  
The Duke looked quite horrified. ‘But it cannot be! I have never offered – never said a word to Ginny, or given anyone the least reason to suppose that my affections had become fixed!’  
‘My dear boy, in our world these affairs are generally known. Molly Weasley has refused one offer for Ginevra’s hand already, and I have little doubt that her ladyship will have dropped a hint or two abroad. It would be a great piece of folly to pretend that you are not a splendid matrimonial prize, Harry, so we will not indulge ourselves with any humbug about that. In fact, except for Krum, who is devoted to his career and seems to be a settled bachelor – besides he is not easy on the eyes – I do not know of one to equal you. Depend upon it, Molly Weasley will not have been able to resist the temptation of telling her friends – in the strictest confidence, of course! – that she has such large expectations for her daughter. She must be the envy of her acquaintance!’  
The Duke passed a hand through his dark locks. ‘I had no idea of this! Do you tell me that the Weasleys – Ginny – have been expecting me to declare myself?’  
‘Oh, well, I do not say that,’ replied Lord Dursley. ‘In fact, I told Molly I would not have you established too early in life. Your health was too uncertain, and I wished you to have time to look about you before making your choice.’  
‘My choice!’ Harry ejaculated. ‘It seems that I have none at all, sir!’  
‘You have certainly made none,’ said his uncle, dryly.  
There was a defeated silence. After a few moments, Harry said: ‘I do not know what to say. I must see Lady Weasley, and – and Ginny too. Until I am persuaded that she does indeed expect me to offer – Well, I must see her!’  
‘Not before you have spoken to her father!’ exclaimed Lord Vernon.  
‘Oh, no!’ Harry said wearily.  
‘There is no need for you to be in a hurry,’ said Lord Vernon. ‘I believe the Weasleys are in London at present, but they will be removing into the country at any moment now, I should suppose.’  
‘No, no, I would rather by far visit her in town!’ Harry said. ‘I had been thinking that I would go up to see my cousin. If you do not object, sir, I will do so.’  
‘Object! Pray, why should you always be supposing that I may object to what you wish to do, Harry?’ demanded Lord Dursley. ‘But you will find London very thin of company at this season, and I own I do not like the dementor fogs for you, and they will soon be starting, you know. However, if you like to go for a few days it can very well be arranged. I will send an owl to the staff, as well as Winky, to warn them to have Grimmauld Place in readiness for you. Diggle may accompany you, and – ‘  
‘I should like to go alone – and to a hotel!’ said the Duke desperately.  
‘Alone and to a hotel!’ repeated his uncle, thunderstruck. ‘Next I shall be told that you would like to travel to town on the Knight Bus!’  
‘No, I don’t wish to travel by Knight Bus, but I do not want Diggle!’  
Lord Vernon eyed him speculatively. ‘Now, what mischief are you up to, Harry?’ he asked, not displeased. ‘Do you mean to go raking in town?’  
The Duke smiled rather perfunctorily. ‘No, sir, but I find Diggle very tedious, and I am sure he will find me a dead bore, for I mean to see a good deal of Dudley, and you know that they could never agree! And I thought I might visit the apothecary and look in at Quality Quidditch Supplies besides, and that sort of thing is not in Diggle’s line at all.’  
‘No, very true,’ agreed Lord Dursley. ‘So you mean to buy more ingredients and another broom, do you? What is it you want? Something showy to lionize a bit, eh? You had best find out Slughorn, and desire him to go with you. Not that I mean to say that you are not able to judge ingredients for yourself, but Slughorn can advise you.’  
The Duke was too thankful to have escaped the company of his historical tutor to jeopardize his position by demurring at having his other overbearing instructor thrust upon him. Horace Slughorn might override him in the matter of choosing ingredients for his potions, but he was not likely to dither, and he would not be staying under the same roof as his erstwhile pupil, and so would not be able to keep his movements under strict surveillance.  
‘You will tell Winky to draw on Griphook for whatever money you may require,’ said Lord Vernon. ‘No need to trouble yourself about that. But as for staying in a hotel, certainly not, Harry! I would not vouch for the way they air the sheets even at the Leaky Cauldron, and when you have a very good house of your own it would be the height of absurdity not to use it. Kreacher may go to London ahead of you –‘  
‘I do not mean to entertain largely. Should Kreacher not remain with you, sir?’ said the Duke.  
‘We shall do very well with the under-butler. Naturally Kreacher and Winky go with you. You must not blame me for keeping only a skeleton-staff at Grimmauld Place, Harry. While you were under age I should not have considered it proper to squander your fortune in keeping up several establishments as they of course must be kept up when you are married. And you have lived so little in London that it hardly seemed worthwhile – but that must all be looked into presently. And that puts me in mind of something else! You need not discuss the marriage settlements with Arthur, you know. He will not expect it of you. You are of age, but you will do very much better to leave all such matters in my hands.’  
‘Yes,’ said the Duke.  
‘I have nothing to say against your being with your cousin: indeed, I hope you will see as much of him as you may, but do not let yourself be drawn into that military set, boy! Dudley is older than you, and can be trusted to keep the line, but there are some fast fellows among them, such as I would not wish to see you associating with too freely. And you never know where that kind of society may lead you! Muggle-baiting and Knockturn-frequenters, hanging out for invitations: toad-eaters of that style! It will not do for you by any means.’  
‘No,’ said the Duke.  
‘And if you take my advice, Harry, you will be a little on your guard with Ronald!’ further admonished his lordship. ‘I hear he is being very wild, and once he gets it into his head that you are to marry his sister I should own myself very much astonished if he did not try to borrow money from you, or some such thing. I do not mean to be dictating to you, mind! But if he tries to introduce you to one of these pernicious gaming-houses, do not go with him!’  
‘No,’ said the Duke.  
‘Well,’ said his lordship, glancing at the clock. ‘I do not think there is anything more I wish to say to you at present, and I see that Kreacher will be bringing the tea-tray in a few minutes. We had better go back to join your aunt.’ He nodded graciously at his nephew, and added, a little inaccurately, but in great good-humour: ‘We have had a comfortable prose together, have we not?’


	3. An Unwelcome Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrangements are being made, and familiar faces are crawling out of the woodwork.

CHAPTER 3:

Four days later, the Duke of Gryffindor set out from Hogwarts for London, riding the Hogwarts Express with outriders to protect his person and his chattels from possible thieves. He was followed by his house-elf valet, in a different carriage piled high with baggage; and preceded by his steward, his butler, his broom-handler, his thestral groom and several underlings, all of whom were considered by his uncle and his steward to be absolutely necessary to his comfort.  
Upon the day following his decision to visit the city, an owl had been sent to London to warn his agent of his approaching arrival. The owl had carried with it a letter addressed by Lord Vernon to one Professor Horace Slughorn, potions master, desiring this gentleman to render his Grace all the advice and assistance of which he might be thought to stand in need, so that whatever plans the Duke might have entertained of escaping a visit from the Professor were foiled at the outset.  
He had been seen off by his uncle, his aunt, his tutor and his old nurse, Madam Pomfrey. His aunt and the nurse had confined their parting counsel to remind him to take his potions on the least suspicion of internal disorder; to beware of damp socks, and over-rich foods; and not to hesitate to call in those eminent healers from St Mungo’s if he should chance to take a chill. His tutor recommended him not to miss the opportunity of attending a forthcoming lecture on astrology and its uses in potion effects, recently advanced by Emmeline Vance. His uncle, having testily informed his other well-wishers that no young man setting forth for London on a visit of pleasure wished to receive a clutter of such foolish advice, said that he was to beware of Knockturn wizards and to make a point of visiting Flourish and Blott’s.  
Fortified by this send-off, and aware that he had at least one person on the train who would do what lay in his power to persuade him to follow out all the more disagreeable orders laid upon him, the Duke left Hogwarts, a prey to dejection, and a great many rebellious thoughts.  
For the first half of the journey, he indulged his fancy by forming several impossible schemes for shocking and confounding his relatives, but as soon as the absurdity of these struck him he began to be amused at himself and his ill-humour, never very durable, lifted. He might chafe at his uncle’s domineering ways, but he could not be angry with him. He thought it must indeed have been a wearing task to have reared such an unpromising specimen as himself, and for perhaps the hundredth time resolved that it should not be a thankless task as well. Lord Vernon might have been, in the past, a severe guardian; he might cling to strict, old-fashioned ideas, and insist on having these conformed to; he might often have been over-anxious, and have irked his ward with restrictions and prohibitions; but the Duke knew well that he had acted throughout on the highest principles, and had for him an affection perhaps as deep as for his own son. He had certainly taken far greater care of him, and shown him more partiality. It was Dudley who had received the blame for any boyish escapade – with a certain amount of justice, reflected the Duke, smiling to himself, as he recalled various instances of his elder and more enterprising cousin’s exploits. Dudley was sent to Durmstrang, but Lord Vernon dared not expose his sickly nephew to the rigours of public school life, and engaged for him a resident tutor, and any number of visiting instructors, from a Warding instructor to a Professor in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It had been solicitude, not mistrust, which had prompted him to send Harry to train with Mad-Eye Moody under the aegis of Mr Diggle. He had previously tried the experiment of allowing Harry to go on a visit to some other relatives unattended by Mr Diggle, and Harry had most unfortunately taken a chill which (owing, his lordship was convinced, to neglect) had developed into an inflammation of the lungs which had nearly carried him off. There could be no question after that of sending him to auror training alone. Not only that, but Lord Vernon had engaged a Professor Slughorn to instruct him in all manner of obscure potions and theory. Unfortunately, the quiet young nobleman found that he had little in common with the greedy potioneer, sometimes came near to disliking him, and never accorded him more than the gentle courtesy he used towards Mr Diggle.  
He had spent several years at his studies, and although these had not been altogether enjoyable, they had certainly done much to improve the state of his health. He wondered sometimes how any two persons could have been prevailed upon to undertake the task of following out the conflicting orders laid upon Mr Diggle and Professor Slughorn by Lord Dursley. He commanded them to indulge any reasonable wish their charge might express; he warned them to teach my lord Duke to study Economy, and on no account to keep him short of money; he forbade them to coddle him, but instructed them to discover the name and direction of the best healers in London, never to allow my lord to duel or to fly after dinner, or to neglect to change his robes after taking exercise. They were to encourage him to mingle freely in society, but they were to remove instantly from his presence any acquaintance not of the highest level. They were to remember that he was not a schoolboy but a young man; and they were to keep his lordship informed of every detail of their tour.  
On the whole, reflected the Duke, they had not managed so very ill. Mr Diggle had been the more zealous to conform to Lord Dursley’s instructions, but Professor Slughorn had been the better guide for a young gentleman setting out for the first time. And since they were mutually antagonistic, and very jealous of each other besides, their charge had not experienced much difficulty in winning the support of one of them when he wished to run counter to the other’s judgement.   
Upon his return from his studies, the Duke had been a good deal taken aback by his uncle’s proposal to install Mr Diggle as historian at Hogwarts. He did not dislike his tutor, but he had certainly hoped to be rid of him at last, and had supposed that one of the many livings in his gift would be bestowed on him. But Lord Vernon said that none of these were vacant, and that when old Professor Binns, who had been historian for so many years, had died, he had purposely kept the post free, so that Diggle might fill it in reward for the years of his faithful services. ‘You would not wish to be ungrateful, Harry,’ had said his lordship.  
No, Harry had not wished to be ungrateful, and Mr Diggle had got the historian post, and perhaps, in the course of a few more years, he might forget that his patron had once been his pupil. ‘For Merlin’s sake, Harry, give that prosy old fool a set-down!’ had begged his cousin Dudley.  
But the Duke did not like giving set-downs to persons who wished him nothing but good, and had too much sensibility to be anything but courteous to those whose situation in life obliged them to accept without retort the snubs of their patrons.  
‘Harry, you cannot continue to employ such an antiquated valet such as Dobby!’ expostulated Dudley. ‘Pension him off, cousin! Pension him off!’  
‘I cannot!’ said the Duke despairingly. ‘It would break his heart!’  
‘Can you never bring yourself to hurt anyone’s feelings, little one?’ asked Dudley, with his crooked smile.  
‘Not the feelings of people who are attached to me,’ answered Harry simply.  
‘Then there is no hope for you!’ said his cousin.  
Harry was unhappily inclined to believe him.  
And now it appeared that there was another person to be added to the list of those whose feelings the Duke could not bring himself to wound. He did not know whether his intended bride was fond of him, but she was vibrant, and kind, and, if his uncle were to be believed, she was depending upon him to make her a Duchess. The Duke had not been made a member of various clubs, and participated in a fully-attended Wizengamot, without assimilating certain social facts. He had very little doubt that Lady Ginevra’s chances of securing him for a husband were being freely betted upon within society’s various circles, and to blast all her hopes, to set her up to be the butt of every ill-natured wit in town, would, he realised, be conduct wholly unbefitting of a gentleman.  
His mood of dejection deepened. Lying back in one corner of his train-carriage, his eyes on the window, he tried to think about Lady Ginevra and found it difficult. She had been so very chaotically brought up, had been of late years so zealously chaperoned by her numerous brothers, that he could not feel that he knew very much about her. There had been a great deal of interaction between his family and hers; she had very often stayed at Hogwarts, or at Godric’s Hollow; and when they had been children he had liked her very well – better, in fact, than the more aggressive children of his acquaintance. He still liked her very well, but the easy interaction they had once enjoyed had latterly dwindled, perhaps from his own consciousness of the future laid down for them both, perhaps from the lady’s increasing distance.  
He had squired her to concerts and cheered with her at quidditch games; he found it easier to talk to her than to any other lady of his acquaintance; but she was not the bride of his independent choice, and although he had no very clear idea of what this imaginary damsel might be like, he felt sure that she did not resemble young Ginny.  
But since he knew, naturally, that he must marry a lady of impeccable lineage, he was forced to own that Ginny would suit him decidedly better than any other marriageable young female of his set. Only it was all very dull; and without having the least ambition to marry to disoblige his family, as the saying was, he did wish that he could have found a wife for himself, and that not a lady he had known from his cradle.  
He wondered what it would have been like to not have been born in the purple, but to have been some quite unimportant person – not of too lowly a degree, of course, for that would certainly have been uncomfortable. He might have been obliged to live in Privet Drive, for instance, with a leaking roof; or have been snapped up by Snatchers. It was undoubtedly better to be the seventh Duke of Gryffindor than a Snatcher prize, but he was much inclined to think that to have been plain Just Harry, of Nowhere in Particular, would have been preferable to either of those paths.  
He began to picture the life of plain Just Harry, and was still lost in a pleasant, if slightly ill-informed, reverie when the Express swept up to platform 9 ¾.   
He came down to earth with a thud. Just Harry inhabited one of those cosy little terrace houses in a quiet corner of town, and when he returned to his dwelling after a convivial evening spent with his friends, he let himself into his own house with his own key, and found no one at all who cared a button where he had been or what he had been doing. In fact, he had very few servants: just a cook, and a housemaid or two, supposed the Duke. Stewards, butlers, footmen and valets were encumbrances unknown to Just Harry. Nor had he any relatives. Or had he one or two cousins? The Duke could not make up his mind on this point, for although the right style of cousin would undoubtedly be a comfort to Just Harry, cousins carried uncles in their wake, and Just Harry had no uncles – not even an uncle who lived a very long way from London, and never stirred out of his own house. And, thought the Duke, warming to his theme, Just Harry had no historian, and no agent; no tradition to uphold; no dignity to maintain.  
It was at this moment that the Duke returned to earth. He had taken a car from the station, and he now found himself looking, not at a cosy little house in a terrace, but at the imposing portico of Grimmauld Place. As he blinked at it, the great door was opened by unseen hands, his house-elf butler appeared; and two footmen and a porter came down the steps to open the door of the car, and assist his Grace to alight. They were followed by Mr Crouch, the steward, who kept a sharp eye on their movements, and was the first to offer a respectful welcome to his Grace.  
The Duke began to laugh.  
The elder of the two footmen, who figured on Griphook’s account-books as ‘the Duke’s footman’, continued to stand with his arm crooked for his master to lever himself up out of the car, and his face rigidly impassive; but the younger footman found the Duke’s low laughter so infectious that he so far forgot himself as to grin in sympathy. Mr Crouch, himself a trifle startled, made a mental note of this, and silently rehearsed the words of stern reproof he would presently utter.  
The Duke picked up his holly wand and unfurled from the back seat, ignoring the proffered arm. Mr Crouch surged forward, uttering in shocked accent: ‘Your Grace!’  
‘Oh, don’t, pray!’ besought the Duke, in a shaking voice. ‘You will set me off again!’  
Mr Crouch bowed politely but in a good deal of bewilderment. He said doubtfully: ‘I am glad to see your Grace in spirits. Will your Grace enter the house? You will be tired after the journey, I make no question. Refreshments have been laid out for your grace in the Black Saloon.’  
‘Thank you,’ said the Duke.  
He trod up the steps, smiled mechanically at Kreacher, who bowed him in, and found that three more persons were waiting to welcome him. These were his own elf Dobby, his agent-in-chief Griphook, and a portly, smartly attired gentleman, who darted forward with his hands held out, exclaiming joyfully: ‘My dear, dear boy! You must let me be among the first to bid you welcome to London! How do you do? But I can see for myself that you are in good health!’  
All desire to laugh abruptly left the Duke. He halted dead on the threshold, staring up in dismay at the florid countenance that loomed before him. Then, as he recollected himself, he blushed faintly, and held out his hand, saying with a little stammer: ‘F-forgive me! I did not know you had been informed of my coming to town. It is excessively obliging in you to have come to meet me, Professor Slughorn.’  
‘Why, I could not keep away, my dear lord!’ the Professor said, warmly shaking his hand. ‘I had the news from your good uncle, and excellent news I found it. I have not set eyes on you since I know not when! But come in out of the draught, sir! You see, I do not forget your old weakness! We must have no sore throats to spoil your visit to the city.’  
‘Thank you, I am very well,’ the Duke said, disengaging his hand, and turning to bestow it upon the agent.  
Griphook, a middle-aged goblin in a neat black suit, bowed shallowly and said that it was fortunate to see his Grace. He hoped that everything would be found to be in readiness at Grimmauld Place, and hoped his Grace would pardon any shortcomings. ‘Your Grace must know that we have not a full staff of servants here at present,’ he said. He added that he should hold himself in readiness to attend upon his Grace as soon as he should be needed; and bowed himself away to head to his offices in Gringotts, where he conducted the business of the Duke’s many estates and large fortune.  
The Duke turned to find Kreacher waiting to assist him to take off his long, hooded outer robes. He allowed Kreacher to remove his outer robes and stood revealed in dark trousers, well-polished dragon-leather boots, and a green, acromantula-silk shirt of excellent tailoring. The only adornment he wore was the heavy sardonyx signet ring which had belonged in his family for generations.  
The shank had had to be made smaller to fit his finger, and the ring seemed to be a trifle too large and gaudy for so delicate a hand, but the Duke was fond of it, and rarely wore any other.  
He accompanied Professor Slughorn into the Black Saloon, where a fire had been lit, and a table spread with such light refreshments as might be acceptable within a few hours of dinner.  
The Professor declined food, but took a glass of fire-whiskey. He said: ‘Well, and what brings you to town, my lord? Your uncle writes that you mean to buy a broom!’  
‘Yes, I think I may do that,’ replied the Duke.  
The Professor lifted quizzical brows. ‘I think I know you a little too well to stand upon ceremony with you!’ he said. ‘Thought I to myself, aha! That is a tale for Lord Dursley! Is he still as – careful, shall we say? – as ever?’  
‘Oh, yes! But I need a new firebolt,’ replied the Duke tranquilly.  
‘You know I shall be happy to give you my advice, I learned quite a bit about brooms from my scintillating conversations with dear Gwenog Jones, flyer with the Holyhead Harpies, you know? It will quite bring back old times. And for the rest you mean to do a little junketing about town, eh? But the high society parties are at an end, I fancy. Everyone is gone out of town.’  
‘I hope to see something of my cousin.’  
‘Of course! He is stationed here! I think I caught sight of him the other day, devilish smart in his uniform!’ he laughed heartily as he spoke. The Duke gave a perfunctory smile. The Professor crossed one leg over the other, with the air of one who had no immediate intention of removing, and said: ‘Well, my lord, and what is the news with you? I did not see you at the qualifiers, although they tell me Lord Dursley was there. I was sorry to have missed the chance of paying my compliments to him.’  
‘Yes, my uncle attends every year.’  
‘But still does not take you along with him!’  
‘I was in Yorkshire.’  
‘I should have known it indeed! You would not miss the duelling championships, I’ll wager! I daresay you would not have been amused as well at the qualifiers: nothing but exploding snap and the company of the elderly nowadays,’ he drank some of the whiskey, and set the glass down on the table at his elbow. ‘Well, you are wanting to hear all the town gossip, I expect. There is very little to tell you. The Minister seems to have recovered from the heart trouble he suffered in the spring. They say it was provoked by hearing that the Head of the Order of the Phoenix and the Head of the Knights of Walpurgis had met and negotiated a political ceasefire. His healers thought his rage would have carried him off! What else is there to tell you? Upon my word, I know of no particular tit-bit of scandal!’  
In this fashion the Professor rattled on until interrupted by Kreacher, who came into the room to inquire if it would suit his Grace to dine at eight o’ clock, or whether he wished to visit out. The Duke had meant to call at his cousin’s that evening, but he knew that the Professor hoped to be asked to dine with him, and he could not bring himself to disappoint him. Upon receiving the invitation, the Professor protested half-heartedly that he was not wearing suitable robes, but allowed himself to be easily persuaded into remaining. The Duke, feeling that a whole evening of his conversation could not be borne, said that they would dine early, and go to the theatre. This necessitated booking for a private apparition point at the theatre, selecting the play to be seen, and despatching a house-elf to procure a box – arrangements which the Duke found pompous, and the Professor, who was generally obliged to attend to all such details himself, agreeably luxurious.  
They did not part until the Professor had wrung an assignation for the following morning out of the Duke, but a decided hint that they should also spend the afternoon together was countered by the Duke’s saying that he had some calls he must make.  
At breakfast next day, the Duke bethought him of his agent, and desired one of the house-elves to carry a message to him. Griphook, who had been expecting the summons, speedily presented himself to the house, bringing with him a formidable pile of parchment; and the next hour was spent by the Duke in glancing perfunctorily over accounts; listening to suggestions for the improvement of several of his estates; and having it respectfully explained to him why his own ideas could not possibly be put into execution. Griphook was unusually kind to him – especially for a goblin; and he said that it was a gratification to him to find his young master taking such a proper interest in his affairs; but he contrived to make him feel very ignorant. The interview ended with his saying that in anticipation of the Duke’s needs he had drawn a sizeable amount of money from one of his lesser vaults, and would his Grace care to take all or part of the money into his own charge at once? The Duke thought that he would not need more than two hundred galleons for the present, so this was counted out into the Duke’s featherweight-charmed money pouch; and the Duke went off to Diagon Alley to meet Professor Slughorn.  
Here he fell in love with a handsome pair of duelling holsters, which he purchased. The Professor cut several sly jokes about this, affecting to believe that he must have come to town to fight a duel over some unknown Fair One, and offering several suggestions for his second. The Duke received these in good part, and by dint of employing evasive tactics, managed to shake him off without making any definite arrangement for further meeting. The Professor said he should wait upon him next day; the Duke made plans for leaving his house at an early hour, and not returning to it until late at night.


	4. A Pressing Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future is planned for and important questions are raised.

CHAPTER 4:

An hour later, the Duke had formerly offered for Lord Ginevra Weasley’s hand in marriage, and had been accepted.  
He had been lucky to have found his future father-in-law at home, he was told. The family was on the point of leaving town, the household, in fact, was in a pucker with the business of packing-up already, for while Lord and Lady Weasley were off to Romania, Lady Ginevra was going to pay her annual visit to her aunt, Lady Muriel. If the Duke had come but one day later, he would have found the wards up, and the household gone.  
Lord Weasley, who was a kindly, harassed man, generally thought to be under the complete dominance of his wife, pushed matters to a crisis not quite bargained for by the Duke by saying almost at once: ‘I can guess why you are here, Harry: I have been having some correspondence with your uncle. But I wish you will consider well, my dear boy! I shall not pretend to you that I do not like the alliance. Indeed, there is none I could like half as well, for setting aside the position my girl would occupy, I know of no one who would, I believe, make her happier. Your poor parents were dear friends too! But do you wish it, my boy? Are you quite sure you have not been pushed into this by your uncle? I know Vernon well! He means nothing but good, but is overbearing – very overbearing!’  
Taken aback, and at a loss for anything to say, the Duke flushed hotly, and stammered: ‘No, no! I mean – ‘  
‘You see, Harry,’ said Arthur Weasley, fidgeting about the room, ‘I am very much attached to you, both for your parent’s sake and for your own, and I should not like to think – Well, I was always very much against arranging such a thing before either of you were out of the nursery! And what I wish to say to you is this! If your heart is not in the business, I would not have you go a step farther in it. You need not regard anything but your own inclination, and I beg of you not to allow yourself to be swayed by considerations that do not matter a button! If expectations have been raised, they were not raised by you. I have always deprecated Ginevra’s being encouraged to suppose – But I need not say more upon that head!’  
He had certainly said enough. The Duke pulled himself together, and in a composed voice said that he entertained the deepest regard for Lady Ginevra, and should think himself fortunate indeed if his suit were accepted.  
Doubt and relief struggled for supremacy in Lord Weasley’s breast; relief won. He said: ‘Well! If your mind is set on it, what can I say but that my girl must count herself honoured to receive so distinguishing a proposal? I am sure – that is, I fancy there can be no doubt – But you will wish to hear her answer from her own lips. Do but sit down, your Grace, while I discover if my lady wife is able to see you. I know she will wish to do so, despite the house being in such an uproar. I will not keep you waiting above a little while!’  
He almost thrust his guest into a chair by the fireplace, and hurried off in search of his wife. He found her in her dressing-room, in a conference with a housekeeping elf, and surrounded by several trunks. She was a handsome woman, dressed for both comfort and style. Her nose was high-bridged and her brown eyes at once fiery and penetrating. One glance at her spouse sufficed to make her dismiss the housekeeper; and as soon as the elf had curtsied herself out of the room, she said: ‘Well, Arthur? What is it?’  
‘I have Duke Potter downstairs,’ he said. ‘He has been with me this past half-hour.’  
‘Potter!’ she exclaimed, her eyes narrowing.  
‘My love, he has made me an offer for Ginevra’s hand. He expressed himself with the greatest propriety: I think you would have been pleased to have heard him.’  
‘I was beginning to think he meant to cry off!’ she said, in the outspoken way which always made her lord wince. ‘So he has offered at last! He could not have chosen a more awkward moment! It is quite out of the question for us to ask him to dine. We have only the under-cook here!’  
‘Upon my word, I had thought you would have been glad of the news!’ said his lordship, quite astonished.  
‘Pray do not talk to me in that foolish manner, Arthur! You know very well I am excessively glad of it, but why he might not have made his offer at a seasonable time I have not the remotest conjecture. We should have held a dress-party, and the announcement should have been made at it. People will think it a shabbily contrived business!’  
‘You forget, my dear,’ rather feebly suggested his lordship, ‘that we are still in black gloves. It will not be thought wonderful that we do not – ‘  
‘Cousin Delores, and I know not how many times removed, besides having been thought as mad as Uric the Oddball for years! I assure you I should not have regarded that! However it is of no use to repine! The things is that Potter has been brought up to scratch, and Merlin knows I must be thankful for that, for I don’t scruple to tell you, my lord, that I have been fearing that Ginevra was to be obliged to wear the willow. Where have you put him?’  
‘He is in the library. I said I must first speak with you.’  
‘Very well, I will come directly. I daresay Ginevra dressed all by guess this morning, for we are in such an uproar, with half the servants already gone to Romania!’ said the lady, clapping for a house-elf. ‘Do not be loitering here, my lord, I do beg of you, but go back to Potter, and say Ginevra will come down presently. Finally! Please, be good enough to desire Lady Ginevra and Miss Granger to wait on me here directly! Pray, what do you stay here for, Arthur? Go down to Potter at once, and entertain him until I come!’  
The Lady Ginevra was discovered to be in the main sitting room, busying herself with the supervising of the packing their many trunks. At a table in the window, her peer-tutor and friend, Miss Granger, was reviewing her lesson plans for the next week. When Lady Weasley’s message was delivered by the trembling house-elf, Ginevra jumped up from the floor, where she had been sitting, and instinctively put her hands to smooth her fiery hair.  
‘Mum wants me?’ she said in curious voice. ‘Oh, what is it, do you suppose?’  
The elf beamed at her young mistress knowingly.   
‘Ah, that is for the mistress to tell you, Miss Ginny! But there is a lovely young master sitting in the library with Master Weasley!’  
Lady Ginevra’s large brown eyes dilated; she said faintly: ‘Oh, no!’  
Miss Granger, a sensible young woman, rose from her seat, saying in a commonplace tone: ‘Lady Ginevra will come to her ladyship directly. You would do well to tidy your hair, Ginny. You know your mother likes you to be neat in your appearance.’  
Ginevra, blushing furiously, ran out of the room. Miss Granger followed her out and up two flights of stairs to a bedchamber at the back of the house. She trod over to the dressing-table, before which Ginevra had seated herself. ‘You have crumpled your robes a little, Ginny, but it will not do to keep your mother waiting, and we must hope that she will not notice it. Now hurry up and comb your hair!’  
Ginny did so in a rushed manner, then rose, and with trembling knees, followed the composed older girl downstairs to Lady Weasley’s dressing-room.  
Her ladyship cast one comprehensive glance over her daughter, and exclaimed in exasperated accents: ‘Exactly so! Your old plain robes, and I daresay everything else is packed already! Well, it will not do! Miss Granger, oblige me by seeing to it that Lady Ginevra changes her robes immediately! The pale yellow ones with the golden embroidery at the bottom is what she should be wearing, or if that is not readily procurable, the new sky blue ones with the sleeves drawn at the top with coloured ribbons! My love, Potter is below, with your father. You will allow your mother to be the first to felicitate you upon the very flattering offer that has been made for you!’  
‘Harry!’ Ginevra uttered, in a voice so suspended by surprise as to be barely audible. ‘Oh, no! Surely you must be mistaken, Mum!’  
A look of annoyance seemed to sharpen Lady Weasley’s features.  
‘There is no occasion that I know of for this behaviour, Ginevra!’ she said. ‘You are very well aware of your father’s and my intentions for you!’  
‘Oh, yes! But I had not supposed – he has never been particular – Mum, I did not think Harry loved me!’  
‘I can only conclude, Ginevra,’ said Lady Weasley, with a condemnatory glance at Miss Granger, ‘that you have been taking romance novels out of some muggle library again, which is a thing I have never permitted.’  
‘Oh, no, Mother!’ Ginevra countered in indignation.  
‘Then I am at a loss to understand where you can have learnt such foolish notions, and I beg you will not make a figure of yourself by mentioning them again! Potter has expressed himself very properly to your father, and if he and I are satisfied, you have surely nothing to cavil at! He is waiting to address you himself. I trust you know your duty well enough to make it unnecessary for me to tell you in what terms you must answer him.’  
‘Oh, Mum, pray -!’  
‘Ginevra, what is this nonsense?’ demanded her ladyship irately. ‘I will allow it to be a most inconvenient time for Potter to be declaring himself, but so it is always! Men have not the least common-sense! But if you mean to tell me that you hold him in aversion –‘  
‘Oh, no, no!’  
‘Precisely so! You should be grateful that I permitted you to become pretty well acquainted with Potter, instead of presenting him to you a complete stranger, as might very often happen in my young days, let me assure you! I did not look for this difficulty in you, and I can tell you that it is not at all becoming. You have been a little taken by surprise, and that is forgivable. I was quite thunderstruck myself. But you will have time to compose your mind while you change your robes, and I am confident that you will conduct yourself just as you should. Now, do not dawdle here any longer, my dear! Let’s not keep him waiting. Miss Granger, be so good as to accompany my daughter and make sure that she is dressed just as she should be.’  
‘Certainly, my lady,’ said Miss Granger, in her officious way. ‘Come, Lady Ginevra.’  
She laid her hand on Ginevra’s trembling arm, and almost propelled her to the door. When she had firmly closed the door behind them, she said in a warmer tone: ‘Ginny, try to compose yourself! What is the matter?’  
‘Oh, Hermione, I don’t know!’ Ginevra replied, in some agitation. ‘Only I did not look for this, and I do not wish – I do not think –‘  
‘Forgive me, but I had not supposed that you were indifferent to the Duke.’  
‘Not indifferent, no!’ Ginevra exclaimed. ‘But he -!’  
They had reached Ginevra’s landing before Hermione replied. She said then: ‘I believe the Duke entertains feelings of the warmest regard for you, Ginny. He is a very amiable young man, and one who will not fail to treat you with all the courtesy and consideration one could wish for you. Indeed, I think you are to be envied! You will occupy a position of the first consequence and you will enjoy great wealth. Reflect that in addition to this you will have a husband who partakes of many of your hobbies and interests, and is, I am persuaded, the model of kindness and good-nature.’  
‘He does not love me,’ Ginevra said. ‘It is his uncle’s doing, and my mother’s. I know it, Hermione!’  
‘I shall not dispute with you on that head, Ginny. I must venture to tell you, however, that I do think you will find happiness with him. It is not common for people of his station in life to make a love-match.’  
‘No,’ Ginevra agreed dejectedly.  
They had paused outside of Ginny’s door. As Miss Granger grasped the door-handle to her bedroom, she added deliberately: ‘You are rather stifled in your home, Ginny. I fancy you may be much happier in an establishment of your own. But I have said too much and we shall soon have your mother coming up to fetch you!’  
Ginny coloured but was silent. Her colour faded gradually as she changed, and she was able to greet her mother when she arrived with tolerable composure. Lady Weasley looked her over and nodded approvingly.  
‘Very well, indeed. I could wish that you had a trifle more countenance, my love, but you look very becomingly. Now, if you are ready, we will go downstairs.’  
‘I am quite ready, Mother.’  
Lady Weasley preceded her out of the room, but paused at the head of the stairs to take her hand. ‘There is no need for you to feel the slightest embarrassment, Ginny,’ she said kindly. ‘Potter is a very pretty-behaved young man, and his manners reflect the greatest credit on his upbringing. I only wish your brothers had them! I daresay he will do or say nothing to make you blush. Besides, I should not think of leaving you alone together, so have no fears on that score!’  
‘No, Mum,’ said Ginevra.  
Lord Weasley and the Duke were standing in front of the fireplace in the library, conversing in a desultory and uncomfortable fashion. Lord Weasley was looking rather more harrassed than before; and half an hour of his future mother-in-law’s brisk, managing talk had so much oppressed the Duke’s spirits that he bore the appearance more of one about to face a severe ordeal than of a hopeful suitor. He directed an anxious, questioning look at Ginevra, but she kept her eyes scowling at the floor, and did not perceive it.  
‘Ah, my child!’ said Arthur, going to meet her. ‘I think your mother has told you that I have just received a very flattering offer for your hand.’ He took it as he spoke and gave it a fond squeeze. ‘But I have told Harry that I will not have you constrained, and you shall give him your own answer.’  
He drew her forward; the Duke, miserably tongue-tied, managed to utter a few formal sentences; and Ginevra, frustrated by the audience, curtsied and mumbled a reply of which ‘very much obliged’, and ‘most truly sensible of the honour’, were the only audible words.  
Her father, apparently taking this to mean consent, held out her hand to the Duke, who took it in his own ice-cold one and kissed it. He said: ‘You have made me very happy. I beg you to believe that I shall do everything in my power to – to make you happy too, Ginny.’  
‘No one who knows you could doubt that, Harry, I am sure!’ Arthur said. ‘I don’t scruple to say that you are two very fortunate young persons. I am sure that you will get along quite famously! My darling, I have something I wish to say to you! We will beg Harry to excuse us for a minute.’  
Her ladyship was so much astonished at having such tactics employed against her that she could think of nothing to say, except what she was too well-bred to say in front of a guest. Her husband was holding open the door, and she saw nothing for it but to leave the room with him. The Duke and his betrothed were left uncomfortably confronting one another.  
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then the Duke saw how Ginevra’s mouth was unhappily twisted and how her pale hands were clenched, and compassion made him forget his own ill-ease, and he said: ‘I hope you do not dislike it very much! I shall do my utmost not to give you cause for any unhappiness. You won’t find me exacting, I promise, or – or – ‘  
‘No, I do not dislike it,’ Ginevra answered in a low voice. ‘I shall try to be as little trouble as you could wish. I have always had a great regard for you, Harry.’  
‘And I for you, Ginny,’ he responded at once. ‘I do think we may get along quite well. It shall not be my fault if we do not.’  
She looked up at that. ‘I hope it may never be mine! It is just, I had not the expectation – that is, I did not think you were in London, or that – you entertained for me those feelings which –‘  
She broke off in confusion. He possessed himself of her hand again. ‘Indeed, I am excessively attached to you!’ he stammered. ‘I wish you were not going out of town immediately! It must have been my – my earnest endeavour to show you – But I may come to visit you at your Aunt Muriel’s, and you will allow me to accompany you to all the dress-balls!’ he added, with an attempt at lightness.  
A smile trembled on her lips. ‘Oh, yes! You know how well our steps suit!’  
‘Yes, indeed! I am sure there is no one I am happier to stand up with, for you never make me feel myself to be such a miserable dwarf of a fellow!’  
‘Oh, Harry, how can you? You are no such thing!’  
He laughed. ‘Ah, you should hear my cousin Dudley on that head!’  
‘You should hear Ron!’ she retorted, gaining confidence. ‘He calls me a little spitfire of a creature!’  
‘Brothers! We shall not care a fig for them, or cousins either!’ he said. He saw that she was looking a little less pale, and ventured to kiss her cheek.  
Lady Weasley came back into the room in time to witness this embrace. Her sharp eyes detected Ginny’s blush, and the way her hand went up as though to clasp the Duke’s collar. She said: ‘Well, I make no doubt you have settled it all between you! It is an unfortunate circumstance that we should be going out of town at this precise moment, but I shall look to see you at the Burrow, Duke, next month. Ginevra must go to her Aunt Muriel’s: there is not getting out of that, for Lady Prewett expects her, and we must not cast her into one of her pets, you know.’  
The young couple fell apart guiltily; constraint descended upon them again; and by the time her ladyship had discussed various convenient dates for the wedding-ceremony, and estimated the length of time it would take her to procure Ginny’s bridal gown, the Duke was thankful to take his leave.  
When he had been bowed out, Lord Weasley, who had been observing his daughter narrowly, said: ‘My dear Ginny, are you quite happy in this engagement? You must not hesitate to tell me if your mind has any misgiving!’  
‘No, Dad, I am quite happy,’ she said.  
‘By the Light, Arthur, what can you be thinking of?’ exclaimed his wife. ‘Pray, what more could any girl desire, I should like to know? To be the Duchess of Gryffindor! That is something indeed! Ginevra, I wish you will come up to my dressing-room, for there is a great deal I want to say to you!’  
She swept her daughter out of the room, saying as she closed the door: ‘Your father has some odd fancies, but I trust I have brought you up to know your duty! It was an awkward business, his calling me out of the room as he did, but I returned to you as soon as I might. Potter looked to be in tolerably good health, I thought.’  
‘Yes, Mum.’  
‘He was the sickliest child! I am sure no one thought to see him survive! He is not as well-grown as one could wish, but he is very well made, and has excellent manners. Perhaps he is not precisely good-looking, but there is nothing in his air or countenance to disgust one.’  
‘I think him very good-looking, Mum,’ Ginny said in a subdued voice.  
Lady Weasley entered the dressing-room and sat down. ‘Yes, very likely, my love, and that brings me to what I wish to say to you. Shut the door! Now, sit down, and attend to me a little!’  
She waited until this command had been obeyed, and then said: ‘I have often observed, Ginevra, that you have just a little nonsense in you which will not do. I shall speak frankly to you, and I daresay you may thank me for it one day. I did not quite like to see you hanging so upon Potter, as you were when I came into the room just now. You know, my dear child, he will not be looking for you to wear your heart upon her sleeve: in fact, I can think of nothing more likely to disgust him. I must surely have told you a dozen times that a lady of quality must not behave as though she were a common Muggle of Magic knows where! I should not like to think that you, my dear Ginevra, would so far forget yourself. Such manners may do very well for others, but whatever your brother Ronald may have told you, they will not do for you. Potter has not been reared in this modern style, which permits all kinds of license, and, depend upon it, he will expect his wife to conduct herself with fitting decorum.’  
Ginevera clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. ‘Mum,’ she said, fixing her eyes on Lady Weasley’s face, ‘may not a lady of quality – love?’  
Her ladyship laughed. ‘As to that, my dear, I daresay she is no harder-hearted than the rest of her kind! But she must always be discreet. You must never give your parents cause to blush for you, Ginevra and I am sure you will not, for you are a good girl, and you know what is due to your position.’  
‘Oh!’ said Ginny faintly, lifting a hand to her cheek. ‘But Mum, were you not in love with Dad when you married him?’  
‘I was a great deal too young to know anything of the matter. He was presented to me by my parents: I doubt if I had clapped my eyes on him above half a dozen times in my life. But I became very sincerely attached to him, as I hope you may do to Potter. But be upon your guard, my child! You have a passionate disposition and I am afraid that you are a great deal too fond of showing when you feel a strong partiality for anyone. And that, you know, may lead you into jealousy, which will never do!’  
‘Perhaps,’ said Ginny, turning away her face, ‘he may welcome a sign of my partiality.’  
‘Very likely, my love, but a man of Potter’s breeding will expect a different style of conduct in his wife, that I can vouch for! Remember it, Ginevra!’  
‘Yes, Mother,’ said Ginevra unhappily.


	5. Family Felicitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to the rest of the family.

CHAPTER 5:

The Duke, upon returning to the townhouse, spent an unprofitable half-hour, trying to draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet. He gave it up finally, exclaiming aloud: ‘It seems I need a private secretary besides all the rest!’  
The door to the library opened. ‘Your Grace called?’ said his footman.  
The Duke stared at him in gathering wrath. ‘Were you standing outside the door?’ he demanded.  
The man looked quite scared. ‘Yes, your Grace!’  
‘Then don’t do it!’  
‘No, your Grace! I beg your Grace’s pardon! I thought your Grace had called!’  
‘I did not!’  
‘No, your Grace!’ said the footman, much discomposed, and preparing to bow himself out again.  
‘When I need you, I shall ring for you,’ said the Duke. ‘At this present I want nothing! At least – Yes, I do! If Griphook should not have left the house, desire him to come to me, if you please!’  
‘Yes, your Grace!’  
It seemed that Griphook had not left the house, for in a very few minutes he presented himself in the library. He found the Duke sitting at the big carved desk, biting the end of a quill, and regarding with dissatisfaction a scrawled sheet of parchment. Several screwed-up balls of parchment cast in the direction of the fireplace bore witness to his frustrated literary endeavour.  
‘You wished to see me, my lord?’ said Griphook, advancing into the room.  
The Duke looked up, a boyishly rueful smile in his eyes. ‘I can do not the least thing for myself, Griphook!’ he said. ‘Here I have been wasting I know not how long trying to write the simplest notice, and making the sorriest work of it!’  
‘You know you may depend upon me, my lord, to do what is necessary,’ said Griphook stiffly. ‘May I know what it is that is giving you so much trouble?’  
‘Merely the notice of my engagement for the Prophet! You would say a simple matter, but only see what a botch I have made of it!’  
Griphook had been moving towards the desk, but at these words, he halted. ‘Your engagement, my lord?’  
‘Yes, to Lady Ginevra Weasley. It must be announced, you know, and I would be very much obliged if you would draft a suitable notice for me.’  
‘May I say, my lord Duke,’ said Griphook, deeply moved, ‘that there is no task you could lay upon me which I could undertake with more gratification? I hope your Grace will permit me to offer my sincerest felicitations upon this most profitable event!’  
‘Thank you, you are very good.’  
‘Your Grace may safely leave this matter in my hands,’ said Griphook. ‘The notice shall be sent immediately to all the society papers: I shall attend to it myself. May I inquire when the date is to be set?’  
‘I do not precisely know. In the spring, I think: nothing is fixed yet!’  
Griphook bowed. ‘We shall have to see to the refurnishing of the Wedded apartments,’ he said. ‘In fact, there will be a great many details to be attended to, my lord. You may rely on me!’  
The Duke, who felt that he had listened to enough plans for his marriage for one day, said hastily that he was sure of it, but that there was time to spare. Griphook thereupon bowed again, and went off to enjoy himself very much in drafting an advertisement in terms grandiloquent enough to satisfy his sense of what was due to his most valuable customer’s dignity.  
The Duke, who had previously ascertained that his cousin was on guard-duty that day, thought that he might perhaps be dining at the Leaky Cauldron, and determined to seek him there. He did not succeed, however, in leaving the house without encountering a good deal of opposition, first from his house-elf valet, who took it amiss that he did not mean to change his day-robes to evening robes; then from Crouch, who had not supposed that his Grace meant to dine from home, and thought it looked like rain; and lastly from Kreacher, who, forbidden to send a message to the car company, was horrified, and exclaimed: ‘But your Grace will have an escort!’  
‘I do not need it; I am only going to the Cauldron,’ replied the Duke, taking his outer cloak from his footman’s hands.  
‘Your Grace will not go on foot, and alone! Only let me organise the floo!’  
‘Kreacher, I am not a child, nor shall I melt for a drop or two of rain!’ said the Duke.  
‘No, indeed your Grace, but they say the town abounds with pickpockets, and street-robbers! I am sure his lordship would desire you to take the floo, or a car!’  
‘I shall take neither, however.’  
Crouch and Kreacher both looked very much upset. ‘But, your Grace, you will be very much more comfortable in a car!’ protested Kreacher. ‘It can be brought around in a trice and – ‘  
‘No!’ said the Duke, with sudden and unaccustomed violence.   
They fell back, and the porter, who had been standing all the time by the door thought well of opening it.  
‘As your Grace wishes!’ said Kreacher feebly. ‘At what hour will your Grace be returning?’  
‘I have not the smallest notion,’ said the Duke, fastening his cloak.   
‘No, your Grace. Quite so! And your Grace would not wish to have the car call for you –?’  
‘I would not!’ said the Duke, and ran down the steps, leaving his faithful henchmen to stare after him in great surprise, and no little perturbation.  
He did not find his cousin at the Leaky Cauldron, but just as he was ascertaining from Tom the barkeep that Captain Dursley had not been seen in the Cauldron that day, Viscount Ronald Weasley walked in and instantly pounced upon him. ‘Potter! By Merlin, I was in half a mind to call at your place! My dear fellow, how do you do? I have just heard the news! Never more glad of anything in my life! Come and dine with me!’  
Lord Ron, who was tall, gangly and had a long nose, bore little resemblance to his sister Ginevra, but had flaming red hair that brought Lady Weasley forcibly to mind. He was said to be a severe trial to his relatives, and had certainly occupied his adult years in tumbling in and out of a great many scrapes. He swept the Duke upstairs to a private coffee-room, saying cheerfully: ‘Well, this is a capital go, old fellow! But what a complete hand you are! I was ready to swear you were not hanging out for marriage yet awhile! Why I don’t believe you ever so much as gave Ginny’s hands a squeeze when out!’  
‘Well, do not shout it to the whole world!’ said Harry.  
‘Oh, no one ever attends to me!’ replied his lordship. ‘You know, it’s not good for me to puff my own sister off, but she’s a rare spirited one, and deserves her fortune. The strangest notions in the world, mind you, but you’re a trifle in that line yourself! I’m glad you didn’t declare off: don’t mind telling you my mother was thrown into gloom when you left town previously without coming up to scratch! What a business it is! They will be trying their hands at finding a bride for me next, I daresay. Do you want to buy a broom?’  
‘Yes, but not one of yours,’ said the Duke frankly.  
‘What do you mean, not one of mine?’ demanded his lordship, affronted. ‘I’ve got a prime bit of timber I wouldn’t mind selling you. Shows off well; lightest to the touch!’  
‘Veers to the left?’ asked the Duke, taking his seat at the table.  
‘Morgause take you! Perfect in all its paces!’  
‘I may look like a Firstie, but I’m not such a fresh flyer that I’d buy one of your breakdowns, Ron,’ said the Duke.  
Lord Weasley grinned. ‘Well, it’s not a breakdown, but I never crossed a greater slug in my life! Fit only to carry a Squib!’  
‘Thank you!’ said the Duke.  
‘Oh, well, there’s no saying! It might have taken your fancy! What made you take this bolt to the city? You did not come merely to offer for Ginny!’  
‘That, and to buy a broom – not your broom.’  
‘Harry, you poltergeist! Don’t try to pull one over my eyes! If you have run away from that devilish uncle of yours, I don’t blame you! The most antiquated old fidget I ever saw! Quite gargantuan, my dear fellow! I’m frightened to death of him. I don’t think he likes me above half.’  
‘Not as much,’ replied Harry. ‘In fact, I think he classes you with wastrels, and other such ramshackle persons.’  
‘No, no, Harry, upon my word! Always in the best of good company!’ protested his lordship. ‘Wastrels be damned! I’ll tell you what, dear boy! I’ll take you along to a place I know of near Fortescue’s after dinner. All the rage among the knowing ones, and the play is very fair.’  
‘You know I haven’t the least taste for gaming! Besides, I’m going to visit my cousin Dudley.’  
Lord Weasley exclaimed against such tame behaviour, but the Duke remained steady in refusing to accompany him to his gaming-house, and they parted after dinner, Ron crossing the street towards Fortescue’s and the Duke heading past Madame Malkin’s, where Captain Dursley rented a medium-sized apartment.   
This was on the first floor of one of the new buildings, and was reached by a flight of stone stairs. The Duke ran up these, and knocked on his cousin’s door. It was opened to him by a stalwart individual with a rugged countenance, and the air and bearing of an old soldier, who stared at him for an instant, and then exclaimed: ‘It’s your Grace!’  
‘Hello, Fubster! Is my cousin in?’ returned the Duke, stepping into the small hall, and laying cloak down upon the table.  
‘Ay, that he is, your Grace, and Master Draco with him,’ said Fubster. ‘I’ll warrant he’ll be mighty glad to see your Grace. I’ll take your cloak, sir.’  
He would have announced him had not Harry shaken his head, and walked without ceremony into his cousin’s sitting room.  
This was a comfortable, square apartment, with windows giving on to a little balcony, and some folding doors that led into Captain Dursley’s bedchamber. It was lit by candles and the atmosphere was thick with smoke as a fire burned in the grate. The furniture was none of it very new, or very elegant, and the room was not distinguished by its neatness. To the Duke, who rarely saw so much as a cushion out of place in his own residences, the litter of game-calendars, invitation cards, drinking glasses and newspapers gave the room a charm all its own. He felt at his ease in it, and never entered it without experiencing a pang of envy.  
There were two persons seated at the mahogany table, at which it was evident they had been dining. One was a pale youth, in splendidly embroidered robes; the other, a big, fair-haired young man, older than the duke, who lounged at the head of the table, with his long legs stretched out before him, and one hand dug into the pocket of his dark denims. He had shed his scarlet robes for a dressing gown, and he wore on his feet a pair of embroidered slippers. It was easy to trace his relationship to Lord Vernon Dursley. He had the same high nose, and narrow blue eyes, and something of the same mulish look about his mouth and chin, which made his face, in repose, a little forbidding. But he had also an attractively crooked smile, which only persons for whom he had a fondness were privileged to see. As he looked up, at the opening of the door, his eyes narrowed and the smile twisted up one side of his mouth. ‘Griffin!’ he said, in a lazy drawl. ‘Well, well, well!’  
The blonde youth, who had been staring a little moodily at the dregs of the pumpkin juice in his glass, started, and looked round wildly. ‘Harry!’ he exclaimed. ‘Good Merlin, what are you doing in town?’  
‘Why shouldn’t I be in town?’ said the Duke, with a touch of impatience. ‘If it comes to that, what brings you here?’  
‘I’m on my way up to Beauxbatons, of course,’ said his cousin. ‘Mordred, what a start you gave me, walking in like that!’  
But this time, the Duke had taken in all the garishness of his cousin’s attire, which included, besides those amazingly decorated robes, a large silver locket, a set of Antipodean Opaleye leather gloves, and boots of the same rare dragon-skin as his gloves. He closed his eyes, and said faintly: ‘Dudley, have you any fire-whiskey?’  
Captain Dursley grinned. ‘Regular little silver-spooner, isn’t he?’ he remarked.  
‘I thought you had an inbred, over-indulged cousin-kisser dining with you,’ said Harry. ‘Draco, you don’t mean to head to the Academy in that lot? Oh, dear Merlin, Dudley, will you look at that locket? What a dashing group they must be in France!’  
‘Harry!’ protested Draco, flushing hotly. ‘Because you are never in the least proud of your heritage yourself, you need not quiz me! The family tradition is a proud and noble one! You should wear your own set!’  
‘Beyond my skill,’ said the Duke, shaking his head. He looked at Dudley, who had dragged himself out of his chair, and now stood towering above him, and smiled.  
‘Dudley,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Oh, I think I was charged with a great many messages for you, but I have forgotten them all!’  
‘Do you mean to tell me, little Griffin, that you have slipped your leash?’ demanded Dudley.  
‘Oh, no!’ said Harry, sighing. ‘I did think that perhaps I might, but I was reckoning without Slughorn, and Griphook, and Kreacher, and Crouch, and Dobby, and –‘  
‘Enough!’ commanded Dudley. ‘This air of consequence ill becomes you, my little one! Is my revered father in town?’  
‘No, I am alone. Except, of course, for Dobby, and Macmillan, and – But you don’t like me to puff off my state!’  
‘This,’ said Dudley, lounging over to the door, ‘calls for some bottles of butterbeer! Fubster! Fubster, you old rascal! Butterbeer! Bustle about, man!’ He came back to the fire. ‘Tell me that my parents are well, and then do not let us talk about them anymore!’ he invited.  
‘They are very well, but I am going to say a great deal to you about your father. I think I came for that very purpose. Yes, I am sure that I did!’  
‘You have never given Uncle Vernon the slip?’ exclaimed Draco.  
‘Oh, no! He saw me off with his blessing, and an adjuration to visit the dentist. I have never yet succeeded in giving anyone the slip,’ said Harry.  
Dudley looked at him under his brows. ‘Smothered, Griffin?’ he said gently.  
‘Drowning!’ replied the Duke, meeting his look.  
‘What a complete half-blood you are, Harry!’ said Draco impatiently. ‘I only wish I stood in your shoes! There you are, head of the Family, everything made easy for you, all the toad-eaters in town ready to serve you, and you complain –‘  
‘Peace, little snake!’ interrupted Dudley. ‘Sit down, Griffin! Tell me everything that is troubling you!’  
‘Too much!’ said the Duke, sinking into a chair at the table. ‘Oh, that reminds me! Would you like to offer me your felicitations? You won’t be quite the first to do so, but – but you won’t care to be backward! I have this day fulfilled the expectations of my family – not to mention those of every busybody in town – and entered upon a very eligible engagement. You will see the notice in the Daily Prophet presently, and all the society journals. I do hope Griphook will not forget any of those!’  
‘Oh!’ said Dudley. He cast another of those shrewd, appraising looks at the Duke. ‘Well, that certainly calls for a glass of the good stuff,’ he said. ‘Ginny, eh?’  
The Duke nodded.  
‘I don’t wish to enrage you, my little cousin, but you have my felicitations. She will do very well for you.’  
The Duke looked up quickly. ‘Yes, of course! What a fool I am to be talking in such a fashion! Don’t regard it! She is everything that is amiable and engaging!’  
‘Well, I’m sure I wish you very happy,’ said Draco. ‘Of course, we all knew that you were going to offer for her.’  
‘Of course you did!’ agreed Harry with immense cordiality.  
‘Dora has contracted an engagement too,’ observed Draco. ‘Did you know? It is to Remus Lupin.’  
‘Certainly I knew,’ replied Harry. ‘In fact, I very nearly withheld my consent to the match.’  
‘Withheld your consent?’ repeated Draco, staring at him with astonishment.  
‘Well, I had the intention, but, like so many of my intentions, it came to nothing. Your father wrote me a very proper letter, expressing the hope that the alliance met with my approval. Only it does not: not at all!’  
Draco burst out laughing. ‘Much my father would care! Stop joking, Harry!’  
‘Joking? You forget yourself, Draco!’ Harry retorted. ‘Let me tell you that I am the head of our family, and it is time that I learned to assert myself!’  
Dudley smiled. ‘Have you been asserting yourself, Griffin?’  
‘No, no, I am not yet beyond the stage of learning! I am so bird-witted, you know, that I can never tell what is asserting myself, and what is putting myself forward in a very obnoxious fashion that will not do at all.’  
Dudley dropped a hand on his shoulder, and gripped it, but as Fubster came in just then, with a laden tray, he said nothing. The Duke lifted his own hand to clasp the larger one. ‘Nothing but air!’ he said jerkily. ‘I told you I was drowning!’  
Dudley smiled down at him in his lazy way, and shook him gently to and fro. ‘Wretched little snitch!’ he said.  
‘Unwashed mountain troll!’ retorted the Duke, with an effort at liveliness. ‘Pour us some butterbeer!’  
‘Shall you be adding spices to it, Dud?’ piped up Draco from his seat by the fire.  
‘I shall not,’ replied Dudley, releasing the Duke’s shoulder, and beginning to measure out the drink. ‘Straight up, dearest Draco, nothing but straight up!’  
‘Only the lesser wizards drink it straight up instead of with spice,’ said Draco, in a lofty way, which he instantly regretted.  
‘Listen to this young serpent spit!’ Dudley recommended, with a nod at Harry. ‘Proceed, Draco! Any more airs of the pureblood to play off?’  
Young Mr Malfoy’s pale cheeks tinged pink as his blush surged up again. ‘No, but it is so! Harry, you go to all the top-notch parties too! It should be spiced, don’t you agree?’  
‘Yes, of course, only Dudley has such cheap-skate ways!’ responded the Duke, gazing deeply at the golden liquid in his glass. ‘Does Dora really wish to marry Lupin, Draco?’  
‘Merlin, yes, she’s in a whirl about it!’ replied Draco cheerfully.  
‘Good grief!’  
‘Well, she will have a very comfortable establishment, you know! Oh, you are thinking that Lupin is a bit of a risk with his lycanthropy! She won’t care for that as long as he doesn’t complain too much about her auror job, and I dare swear he won’t, for he’s about to publish another set of books and has been a consultant with the department for years now. At least that’s the rumour going around town, and I should think it must be true, don’t you?’  
‘But what a charming match!’ said the Duke.  
‘Oh, well!’ said Draco charitably, ‘no one could blame my parents for encouraging Lupin, after all! Successful career and all, and there’s his connections in the Ministry besides, not to mention that there are still all of our other relatives to arrange matches for. As for Dora, it’s all very well for you to shake your head, Harry, but you are your own master and may do as you please. You don’t have to live with Andromeda, dangling after my mother, and having to pour tea for a parcel of twittering Lockhart fans having a book-club meeting most evenings! I tell you, there must have been no bearing it!’  
The Duke, catching the note of bitterness in Draco’s voice, looked at him rather searchingly. Draco averted his eyes with a little laugh, and began to boast of his adventures near Durmstrang with one of his former dorm-mates.  
Dudley, who rarely paid the least heed to him, interrupted his chatter without a thought. ‘How long do you mean to stay in town, Griffin?’  
‘I don’t know. As long as I am permitted, I daresay!’  
‘No time at all, in fact.’ He poured another three glasses of butterbeer. ‘Did you tell me you had Slughorn plaguing you? What in Morgana’s name made you advise him you were in London?’  
‘Don’t be so badger-brained, Dudley!’ Harry implored. ‘Of course I never did so! That was left for my uncle to do. And he did it. I found Slughorn awaiting me on my doorstep.’  
‘If you had as much sense as a pygmy-puff you would have kicked him off your doorstep!’ commented the Captain.  
‘I would I had your height!’ retorted the Duke ruefully.  
‘Resolution is all you stand in need of, little cousin.’  
‘I know. But I fancy he’s not doing so well at the moment, and when a man is so damned please to see you – well, what can you do?’  
‘What, indeed?’ said Dudley sardonically. ‘I suppose if all the scaff and raff of London were to show pleasure at the sight of you you would throw your doors open to them!’  
‘I daresay I should,’ said Harry, with a short sigh. ‘How like my uncle you will be one day, when that blonde hair of yours is no longer so thick or so glossy! How right he was to warn me against seeking your company! And how little he knew how right he was!’  
‘What?’ ejaculated Dudley. ‘He never said anything of the sort!’  
Well, no!’ admitted Harry. ‘But he did warn me against letting myself be drawn into the sort of company you keep. Very justly, I daresay. Apparently you’re such a fast set of fellows, and one never knows where such society may lead one, does one? He warned me against Weasley, too. He said he might lead me into gaming halls, and this is precisely where he did try to lead me, only I was mindful of my orders, and I didn’t go with him.’  
‘Balderdash, Griffin! You didn’t go with him because gambling doesn’t amuse you. No playing any tricks with me, little cousin.’  
The Duke tipped back his glass. ‘Don’t interrupt the head of the family, Dudley! Remember what is due to my position!’  
‘A little more, and that will be head-downwards in my floo connection!’ said Dudley.  
‘I warn you, it will be two to one against you, for Draco – if not too deep in his cups – will stand by me.’  
Draco, who had been staring blankly at the far wall, started. ‘I’m not drunk!’ he said. ‘A wizard can’t be talking all the time!’  
‘You cannot know Slughorn, or you would not say so, cousin. I shall be of full age next year, and my uncle says I must learn to manage for myself. I have a thousand amiable qualities, but I lack resolution. So I thought I would interest myself a little in my estates, but my notions were so nonsensical they made Griphook smile, and put my uncle all out of patience with me. I wish – oh, how much I wish! – that my guardian had been a villain, and my goblin accountant a fool, and that the pair of them had tried to ruin me!’  
‘I don’t see any sense in that!’ objected Draco, blinking.  
‘And I wish,’ continued Harry, disregarding the interruption, ‘that no one about me wished me well, or cared for my interests, or had a particle of affection for me! But they have! Merlin knows why, but they have! Do you know what Dobby, and Kreacher, and Crouch, and my footman – no, not my footman! Light reward him, for he did not know me in my cradle, and does not care a fig what may become of me! He is a splendid boy! I wonder what wage I pay him? It must be doubled! – But the rest of them – oh yes, and Macmillan too! How could I forget him? – the rest of them are waiting for me to come home, and fretting themselves to flinders because they will assume I have been set-upon by muggers, or taken a chill! They will all be sitting up for me, you know. Crouch will offer to cast a warming charm, I daresay, and I am quite sure that Dobby will give me a scold!’ He jumped up and began to stride restlessly about the room.  
‘Dudley, I have been wondering what it would be like to be plain old Just Harry, of Nowhere in Particular!’  
‘Try it!’ recommended his cousin.  
‘How can I? We are not living between the covers of a romance, but in this dead bore of a Polite World! And I am going to be married! Give me some more butterbeer! Or had you better warn me that my digestion was never the strongest, and it may very likely set up some disorder for which it will be necessary to summon Madam Pomfrey?’  
‘Go to Darkness!’ said Dudley, refilling his drink. ‘You may be as ill as you please, as long as you are not ill in my rooms. I shall bundle you up into the fireplace and floo you home.’  
‘I like you so much,’ the Duke sighed, ‘and there is no truth to you! You lie, Dud, you lie! You would have half of the formal Hospital staff here within an hour of my collapse!’  
‘Not I!’  
‘I wish you will stop moaning on forever!’ suddenly exclaimed Draco, sitting up with a jerk. ‘I can tell you this, Harry! It would do you a deal of good not to be a Duke or head of the family, and not to have all the money you need, and scores of servants to wait on you, and not to have a shed full of brooms, or a set of duelling wands, or people to manage your affairs, or – or any of the things you have got, and don’t so much as think about!’  
‘Yes, I think it would,’ agreed Harry, charmed by this outburst. ‘Would you like to change places with me?’  
‘By Merlin I would!’  
‘Well, you can’t,’ said Harry, sitting down again. ‘I’ve suddenly thought of the fact that if we changed places, I should have Bellatrix for an aunt, and although I don’t wish to offend you, Draco, I don’t want her.’  
‘Griffin, you have had more than enough warmth down your throat!’ said Dudley severely.  
The Duke smiled at him but shook his head. ‘No, I am regrettably quite sober. But Draco is right! I have moaned enough. Draco, walk home with me through the perilous London streets! Where are you staying?’  
‘At the Cauldron, but I don’t mind going along with you,’ replied Draco, draining his glass.  
The Duke went out into the hall to pick up his outer robe. Dudley accompanied him, and helped him to put it on.  
‘Come and dine with me tomorrow, Griffin,’ he said. ‘I’ll have none of our relatives here to meet you.’  
‘Yes, I wanted to find you alone,’ said Harry.  
‘You shall, little cousin. Eight o’ clock. Do not sever your throat before then!’  
‘Dudley, Dudley, you don’t suppose that I would not have someone to do that for me, don’t you?’ riposted Harry, much shocked.


	6. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco decides to share his troubles, Harry decides to solve them. He has a plan...

CHAPTER 6:

For some few minutes after he and Harry had left Dudley’s place, Draco kept up a flow of alarmingly light-hearted conversation. It did not deceive the young Duke, and at the first opportunity he broke in on the chatter, and said: ‘Are you in trouble, Draco?’  
The flow ceased abruptly. After a moment, Draco said: ‘Trouble? Why should I be in trouble?’  
‘Well, I don’t know, but if you are I think you might tell me.’  
‘Oh! Now you are back at that Head-of-the-House stuff!’ replied Draco with an unconvincing laugh.  
‘I hadn’t thought of that, but now you put me in mind of it I might as well justify my position. Are you in a bind, Draco?’  
‘Oh, yes, but it’s not in the way that you think!’  
‘What’s the scandal?’  
There was a long silence. Malfoy broke it. ‘If you want to know, I need five thousand galleons, but it cannot be traced back to my trust fund.’  
‘Oh!’ said the Duke. ‘I haven’t such a sum on me at the moment, but I daresay I could find it.’   
Draco began to laugh. ‘Harry, you fool! As though your uncle would let you!’  
‘He has never kept me short of money. In any event, since I was of age I have been at liberty to draw what I please. It is only my principal I may not tamper with.’  
‘Well, if he would let you I would not! I am not such a sponge! I was only joking!’  
‘Draco, what is it?’  
Another long silence followed this question, but the sympathy in Harry’s voice won Draco’s confidence.  
‘Harry, I am worn out in the pockets – not a knut to spare!’ he said, sounding very much more like a scared schoolboy than a young gentleman about town as he was.  
The Duke tucked a hand in his arm. ‘We’ll raise the wind, Draco, never fear! But what is it? You are not scorched to that figure!’  
‘Oh, no, it’s not debt! But I don’t know what to do! It’s a breach of promise!’  
The Duke was somewhat staggered by this revelation. ‘Breach of promise! Draco, I don’t know what you have been doing, but who the devil could be suing you for such a sum as that?’  
‘Not me! Suing you! Through my father, I daresay. To keep our name out of court! Everyone knows how rich you are!’  
‘What a fool I am!’ said Harry slowly. ‘Of course! But did you make an offer of marriage to this person?’  
‘Well, yes, I suppose I did,’ said Draco wretchedly. ‘You know how it is when one writes a letter!’  
‘Did you write them letters?’  
‘Yes, I did, but I never thought – And she did not answer one of them!’ said Draco, on a note of ill-usage.  
‘Draco, has she many of your letters?’  
‘It isn’t she: it’s a fellow who says he is her guardian. He says he has half a dozen of my letters. I do not know how I came to write so many, for in general, you know, I am not much of a dab in that line! But she was so excessively beautiful! You can have no notion, Harry!’  
‘Where did you meet her? Not in London?’  
‘Oh, no! In Hogsmeade! She was looking in at a shop window, and there was a lady with her – well, I thought she was a lady, but when I came to know her better of course I saw that she was not quite the thing, but that didn’t signify, and she said she was her aunt, and her name was Mrs Carrow, but I daresay it was not. Anyway, Cho dropped her reticule, and of course I picked it up, and – and that is how it all began!’  
The Duke, feeling a trifle bewildered by this not very clear account of his cousin’s entanglement, suggested that they should thrash the matter out in the privacy of his library at Grimmauld Place. Draco agreed to this, but said with a heavy sigh that he did not see what could be done about it. ‘I won’t let you pay, Harry, and that’s an end to it! It’s all very well to say that you may draw what money you please, but what a flutter there would be if you drew such a sum as that! It would be bound to come to my uncle’s ears, and he would tell my father, and then I should have nothing to do but to jump into the river, and that would not answer, because I am a pretty strong swimmer, and I daresay I shouldn’t drown at all! Of course, if I were like you, and could afford to keep my own hippogriff or abraxan or some such thing, I could ride to the devil, and break my neck, but I should like to see anyone driving a mere broomstick to the devil! Why, you couldn’t do it! I suppose I could AK myself, but it would mean powerful dark casting, and I’m not suited to that, and to tell you the truth, Harry, I don’t above half fancy the idea.’  
The Duke, realizing Captain Dursley’s drinks had something to do with this despairing utterance, replied in soothing terms, agreeing that among his own many advantages must be ranked the means of putting a period to his life in an expensive way, and drew his young relative on towards his townhouse. The walk did much to clear Malfoy’s clouded intellect, but nothing to lift his depression. When he entered Grimmauld Place in Harry’s wake, he made an effort to appear sprightly and at his ease, but achieved such an alarming result that had the Duke’s servants had eyes to spare for anyone but their master they must have noticed it, and have wondered what could be in the wind. But in the event Kreacher, Crouch and Dobby were far too much taken-up with conveying to his Grace by innuendo a sense of the anxiety he had caused them to labour under all evening to have any attention to spare for Master Draco.  
The Duke bore all the solicitude that met him with his usual patience, disclaiming any feeling of chill or fatigue, and desired Kreacher to bring pumpkin juice and cauldron cakes into the library. ‘And you need none of you wait up for me!’ he added. ‘Leave a candle on the table, and I shall do very well.’  
The steward bowed, and said that it should be as his Grace wished, but Kreacher and Dobby were instantly drawn into a temporary alliance, and exchanged speaking glances, expressive of their mutual determination to sit up all night, if need be.  
The Duke led Draco into the library, and installed him in a chair by the fire; Winky came in with the zealous intention of lighting all the candles in the wall-sconces and chandeliers with which the room was generously provided; and Kreacher soon followed her with a silver tray of refreshments. Having restrained Winky, and assured Kreacher that he should want for nothing more that night, the Duke got rid of them both, and took a seat opposite his cousin’s. ‘Well, now, Draco, tell me the whole!’ he invited.  
‘You won’t blab to my father if I do, will you?’ said Draco suspiciously.   
‘What a fellow you must think me! Of course I will not!’  
His mind relieved on this score, Draco embarked on a long and somewhat obscure story. It came haltingly at first, and with a good many rambling excuses, but when he found that his cousin had apparently no intention of either exclaiming at his folly, or of blaming him for it, he abandoned his slightly pugnacious and extremely self-exculpatory manner, and became very much more natural, unburdening his troubled soul to the Duke, and feeling considerably better for it.  
The tale was not always easy to follow, and in spite of its length, and wealth of detail, there were several gaps in it, but the salient points were not difficult to grasp. The Duke gathered that his impulsive cousin had fallen in love at first sight with a female of surpassing beauty, who was visiting the area with a lady who might, or might not, be her aunt. This lady, so far from discouraging the advances of a strange gentleman, had most obligingly given him her direction, and had assured him that she would be happy to see him if he should chance at any time to be passing her lodging. And of course Draco had passed her lodging, and had received a flattering welcome there; and, finding that the lovely Cho was even lovelier than his memory had painted her, lost no time in plunging neck and crop into an affair which seemed to have run the gamut of stolen meetings, passionate love-letters, and wild plans of an elopement. Yes, he admitted, he rather thought he had mentioned an elopement.  
The Duke knit his brows a little at this. ‘But, Draco, I do not perfectly understand!’ he said apologetically. ‘You say she is threatening to sue you for a breach of promise, but if you were willing to marry her I do not see how this comes about! Why would she not go with you?’  
‘Well, I daresay she would have,’ said Draco. ‘She – she is a very persuadable girl, you know. But the thing is that it costs the devil of a sum to hire a portkey, and what with having sustained some losses, and it being pretty near the beginning of my internship, I was not at all beforehand with the world, and I didn’t know how to raise the wind. You know what my father is like! He would have kicked up the devil of a dust if I had written to ask for some more blunt, and ten to one would have asked me what I wanted it for, because he always does, just as though I were a child, and not able to take care of my affairs! And I never thought of writing to you, Harry – not that I would have done so if I had, for it might have come to my father’s ears then, and that would have been worse than anything! So what with one thing and another, it came to nothing, and, to own the truth, I was afterwards very glad of it, because I don’t think Cho would do for me at all – in fact, I know she would not!’  
‘Did she seem much distressed at your plan’s coming to nothing?’ asked the Duke curiously.  
‘Oh, no, she did not care! It was all this Dumbledore, who writes that he is her guardian. Stay, I will show you his letters – he has written twice, you know. I did not answer the first letter, and now he has written again, threatening to bring action against me, and – oh, Harry, what the Darkness am I to do?’  
He ended on a note of panic, and, thrusting a hand into his pocket, produced two rather crumpled letters written by someone who signed himself, with a flourish, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.  
The Duke, perusing these, found Mr Dumbledore’s epistolary style slightly turgid, and not always quite grammatical. Some of his periods were much involved, but there could be no mistaking his object: he wanted five thousand galleons for his ward, to compensate her for the slight she had endured, for the loss of an eligible husband, and for a wounded heart. Mr Dumbledore ended his first letter by expressing in high-flown terms his belief that neither Malfoy nor his noble relatives would hesitate to recognise, and meet, the claims of one whose blighted hopes seemed likely to drive into a decline.  
His second letter was not so polite.  
The Duke laid them both down. ‘Draco, who is this Dumbledore?’ he demanded.  
‘I don’t know. He says he is Cho’s guardian.’  
‘But what sort of a fellow is he?’  
‘I tell you I don’t know! I’ve never clapped eyes on him. I didn’t know Cho had a guardian until I received that letter.’  
‘Was he not with her at Hogsmeade?’  
‘No, and neither Cho nor Mrs Carrow ever mentioned him that I can remember. It came as the greatest surprise to me!’  
‘Draco, it all sounds to me excessively like a bunch of doxy droppings! I don’t believe he is her guardian!’  
‘I daresay he might not be, but what’s the odds?’  
‘Well, I am not very sure, but I think he can’t bring an action against you. Unless, of course, it is she who brings it, and he merely writes it for her.’  
Draco considered this. ‘I must say I should not have thought it of Cho,’ he said. ‘But there is no knowing, after all! I daresay she was hoaxing me all the time, and was no more innocent than a lethifold.’  
The Duke glanced at the letters again, and got up, and walked over to the table, to pour out two glasses of pumpkin juice. Draco watched him, saying after a minute: ‘And whatever he is, you can see one thing: he means to make himself curst unpleasant, and there’s no getting away from it that he has those damned letters of mine!’  
‘No,’ agreed Harry. ‘It’s the devil of tangle.’  
‘Harry,’ said his cousin, in a hollow voice, ‘even if it did not come to an action, it will reach my father, and your uncle too, and that would be just as bad!’  
He did not address himself to deaf ears. The Duke almost shuddered. ‘Good Merlin, it must not be allowed to reach them!’  
Draco dropped his chin in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. ‘If only I could think of what I had best do!’ he groaned.  
Harry held out one of the glasses to him. ‘Here, take some refreshment! Does Dudley know anything of this?’  
Draco accepted the pumpkin juice, and drank some. ‘No. I did mean – that is to say, I half thought that I might, if all else failed – but you know what Dudley is!’ He saw a surprised look on the Duke’s face, and added: ‘Oh, well, I daresay you don’t for he likes you! But he has a damned cutting tongue! What’s more, he is forever roasting me about something or other, and I’d as lief – However, if you think I ought to tell him –‘  
‘No, I don’t,’ said Harry, with sudden decision. ‘It has nothing whatsoever to do with Dudley!’ His eyes began to dance. ‘I must learn to manage for myself: my uncle said so!’  
‘Oh, Harry, don’t start funning!’ begged Draco. ‘It’s not your affair any more than it is Dudley’s!’  
‘But it is my affair! You said as much yourself!’ Harry pointed out. ‘Dumbledore knows well you could not afford to pay him half of such a sum, and Uncle Lucius is too proud! You may depend upon it he has acquainted himself very perfectly with the circumstances. It’s my belief the whole thing was a deep-laid plot. I am the pigeon he means to pluck! Very well, then! I’ll attend to the matter myself, and I think I must be a great fool if I allow myself to be plucked by such a person!’  
‘But, dear Merlin, Harry, what are you meaning to do?’ demanded Draco.  
‘I am not very sure yet,’ confessed the Duke, ‘but don’t worry, Draco! Whatever happens I won’t let it come to your father’s ears, or my Uncle Vernon’s either! Where does this fellow write from?’ He picked up one of the letters as he spoke. ‘The Hogshead? But why? I should have thought he would have lurked nearby. Perhaps he has reasons for not being too close to the authorities, with the Auror offices so close.’  
Draco sat up. ‘Harry, do you think perhaps Slughorn would -?’  
‘No, certainly not! We shall keep this strictly within the family. Besides it is the only time I have ever had the chance of doing anything for myself!’  
‘I do wish you will tell me what you have in your head!’ Draco said.  
‘I am going to pay a call on Mr Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – if I can find him!’  
‘Harry, for Merlin’s sake -!’ exclaimed Draco, now seriously disturbed.  
‘I must know what sort of fellow it is we have to deal with.’  
‘But you must be mad! If you go to see him, he will know you mean to buy him off, and he will very likely double his price!’  
‘But he won’t know I’m Potter!’ replied the Duke, his eyes alight with mischief. 'I shall be the Honourable Draco Malfoy! You said you had never clapped eyes on him, so he won’t know it’s a hoax!’  
‘Harry, you are mad! Even if he doesn’t know what I look like, he must know I don’t travel about the country with half a dozen servants and – Oh, I wish you will be serious!’  
‘I am serious. Of course, I don’t mean to travel like that! I shall go by portkey, or the Knight Bus, or some such thing. It’s famous! I’ve never travelled anywhere alone in all my life!’  
‘Well you need not think there is anything so vastly agreeable in going by portkey!’ said Draco, with some asperity. ‘If you had done it as many times as I have for the ministry –‘  
‘But I have not, and I should like to find out for myself what it is like to rub shoulders with the world!’  
‘Dobby would send an owl to my uncle on the instant!’  
‘I make no doubt he would, and so he may, but he won’t know where I have gone to, so much good it may do him!’  
‘You would not go without your valet!’  
‘Without anyone! Plain old 'Just Harry' of Nowhere in Particular! Dudley told me to try it, and, by Mordred, I will!’  
‘No, Harry, you must not! I wish I had not said a word to you about it!’  
The Duke laughed at him. ‘Draco, you idiot! I am not going into a dragon’s cave! Besides, it will only be for a day or two. I don’t mean to be lost forever, you know!’  
‘No, but – What if Dumbledore recognises you? He might well!’  
The Duke frowned over this for a moment or two. ‘But I don’t think he will,’ he said at last. ‘I only came back from my studies last year, and have been at Hogwarts for the better part of my time since then.’  
‘You were in London in the Spring!’  
‘To be sure I was, but not in any of the company that Dumbledore keeps, I’ll swear! If you saw me once in the street, would you know me again, beyond question? Now, if I were a big, handsome fellow like Dudley -! But I am not, Draco! You must own I am not! Has not your father said times out of mind that it is a sad pity that I am such an insignificant figure of a man?’  
‘Yes, but – I mean, no!’ Draco corrected himself hastily. ‘And in any event –‘  
‘In any event, I mean to go! When do you go up to Beauxbatons?’   
‘I did mean to go tomorrow, but my diplomatic session has not yet begun, and now that you have taken this crazy notion into your head I think I had best stay in town. Harry, Uncle Vernon would tear me limb from limb if he knew of this!’  
‘Well, he shan’t know, and you had best go to France, so that nobody may suspect you of having anything to do with my having slipped my leash!’ recommended the Duke. ‘I’ll write to you there, to let you know how I’ve fared. But don’t get in a fluster, either on my behalf or your own. If I have to pay Dumbledore off, I’ll do it, and as for the rest – what in the name of all that is magical do you imagine can befall me?’  
‘I don’t know,’ said Draco uneasily, ‘but I have the horridest feeling something will befall you!’


	7. A Daring Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaking is a skill Harry possesses in any universe. Dudley gets a laugh out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally getting to the meat of the story, seven chapters in. I'm not totally happy about how this one turned out, but I'll post it regardless.

CHAPTER 7:

The Duke awoke on the following morning with a pleasurable feeling that something agreeable lay before him. When he remembered what it was, he was obliged to own to himself that to negotiate with Mr Albus Dumbledore might not prove to be an altogether delightful experience; but the prospect of escaping from his household, for as much perhaps as three or four days, was attractive enough to make him feel that any possible unpleasantness with Mr Dumbledore would be more than compensated for. He felt adventurous, and while he waited for Dobby to bring the hot chocolate with which inmates of any house under Lord Dursley’s direction still regaled themselves before getting out of bed in the morning, he lay revolving in his head various plans for his escape.   
It was plainly impossible to divulge to Dobby the least particle of his intentions; for Dobby would certainly insist on accompanying him on any journey which he might undertake. And if he refused to allow Dobby to go with him, Dobby would assuredly inform his uncle of his revolutionary behaviour without a moment’s loss of time. How Dobby was to be prevented from telling Lord Vernon of his nephew’s disappearance, he had no clear idea, but he trusted that one would present itself to his mind during the course of the day. And if none did, and Lord Dursley did discover his truancy – well, he would be back at Hogwarts again before his lordship could do anything unwelcome, and although he might have to endure one of his tremendous scolds, he would at least have enjoyed a brief spell of freedom.  
Money presented no difficulties. He had scarcely broken into the supply of galleons Griphook had drawn for him in his pouch, so that he would not be forced to arouse suspicion by demanding more. The hardest problem, he soon realised, would be the packing of a bag to take with him.   
He had not the smallest notion where his bags and trunks were stored. This was a severe set-back, and he wasted some minutes in trying to think out a way of discovering this vital information before it occurred to him that he could very well afford to buy a new bag. Probably his own bore his crest upon them; he could not remember, but it seemed likely, since those who ordered such things for him had what amounted to a mania for embossing them with either his crest, or with a large and flourishing lightning bolt.  
He would need day robes, too, and his night-gear, and jeans, shirts, toiletries, wand holsters, potion belts, and no doubt a hundred other things which was Dobby’s business to assemble for him. He could not take the supplies that lay on his dressing table either, for they naturally bore the same symbols as all the rest. And if he abstracted a few articles of clothing from the piles of linen in his wardrobe, would Dobby instantly discover their absence, and run him to earth before he had time to board the Knight Bus? He decided that he must take that risk, for although he knew he could purchase soap, deodorant, a brush and bags, he had no idea where to purchase robes. One’s robes were made for one, just as one’s cloaks and duelling armour were, and one’s dragon-hide boots. But to convey out of Grimmauld Place, unobserved, a bundle of clothing, was a task that presented insuperable obstacles to the Duke’s mind. He was still trying to hit upon a way out of the difficulty when Dobby came in, and softly drew back the curtains.   
The Duke sat up. He looked absurdly small and boyish in the huge bed, so that it was perhaps not so very surprising that Dobby should have greeted him with a few words of reproof for the late hours he had kept on the proceeding evening.  
‘I never thought to see your Grace awake, not for another two hours I did not!’ he said, shaking his head as his large ears flopped. ‘The idea of Master Draco’s sitting with you for ever, and keeping you from your bed until past three o’ clock!’  
The Duke took the cup of chocolate from him, and began to sip it. ‘Don’t be so foolish, Dobby!’ he said. ‘You know very well that during the season I was seldom in bed before then, and sometimes much later!’  
‘But this is not the season, my lord!’ said Dobby unanswerably. ‘And what is more you was very often exhausted, which his lordship observed to me when we left town, and it was his wish you should recruit your strength, and keep early hours, and well I know that if he had been here Master Draco would have been sent off with a stinging hex to his ear! For bear with Master Draco’s tiresome ways his lordship never has, and never will! And I think it is my duty to tell you, my lord, that the piece of very gratifying intelligence your Grace was so obliging to inform me of last night, in what one might call a confidential way, is known to the whole household, including the kitchen-elves, who do not associate with the upper house elves!’  
‘No, is it indeed?’ said the Duke, not much impressed but realising from long experience that Dobby’s sensitive feelings had received a severe wound. ‘I wonder how it can have got about? I suppose Griphook must have dropped a hint to someone.’  
‘Griphook,’ said Dobby coldly, ‘would not so demean himself, your Grace, being as I am myself, in your Grace’s confidence. But what, your Grace, can be expected, when –‘  
‘Dobby,’ said the Duke plaintively, ‘when you call me your Grace with every breath you draw I know I have offended you, but indeed I have no notion of doing so, and I wish you will forgive me, and let me have no more Graces!’  
His elf paid not the least heed to this request, but continued as though there had been no interruption. ‘But what, your Grace, can be expected, when your Grace scribbles eight advertisements of your Grace’s approaching nuptials, and leaves them all on the floor to be gathered up by an under-servant who should know his place better than to be prying into your Grace’s business?’  
‘Well, it doesn’t signify,’ said the Duke. ‘The news will be in tomorrow’s Prophet, I daresay, so there is no harm done.’  
Dobby cast him a look of deep reproach, and began to lay out his raiment.   
‘And I told you of it myself,’ added the Duke placatingly.  
‘I should have thought it a very singular circumstance, your Grace, had I learnt it from any other lips than your Grace’s,’ replied Dobby crushingly.  
The Duke was just about to apply himself to the task of smoothing his ruffled sensibilities when he suddenly perceived how Dobby’s displeasure might be turned to good account. While Dobby continued in a state of umbrage, he would hold himself aloof, and without neglecting any part of his duties would certainly not hover solicitously about him. He would become, in fact, a correct and apparently disinterested servant, answering a summons with promptitude, but waiting for that summons. In general, the Duke took care not to permit such a state of affairs to endure for long, since Dobby could, in a very subtle way, make him most uncomfortable. Besides, he did not like to be upon bad terms with his dependants. Lying back against his pillows, he considered the elf under his lashes, knowing very well that Dobby was ready to accept an amende. Dobby had just laid his scarlet red town robes tenderly over a chair, and was now giving a final dusting to a pair of fine leather dress shoes. The Duke let him finish this, and even waited until he had selected a suitable golden-striped tie to match this attire before – apparently – becoming aware of his activities. He yawned, set down his cup, and said: ‘I shall wear my duelling leathers today.’  
At any other time, such wayward behaviour in one whom he had attended since his twelfth year would have called from Dobby a rebuke. He would, moreover, have entered into his master’s plans for the day. But today he merely folded his lips tightly, and without uttering a word restored the town robes to the wardrobe with a snap of his fingers.   
This awful and unaccustomed silence was maintained throughout the Duke’s toilet. It was only broken when the Duke rejected the polished Swedish Short-snout leathers being held up for him to put on. ‘No, not that one,’ said the Duke indifferently. ‘The Horntail set Krum made for me.’  
Dobby perceived that this was deliberate provocation, and swelled with indignation. Krum, who made Dudley’s uniforms, and was largely patronised by the aurors, was an extremely popular Quidditch-player-turned-dragon-dealer, but the Duke’s father had never favoured Northern-European styles, and Dobby had disliked the leathers on sight. But he only permitted himself one glance of censure at his master with his big green eyes before bowing stiffly and turning away.   
‘I shall be out all day, and don’t know when I may return,’ said the Duke carelessly. ‘I shan’t need you, so you may have the day to yourself.’  
Dobby bowed again, more stiffly than ever, and assisted him to fasten himself into the offending leathers. The Duke pulled down his robe sleeves, straightened his holster, and went down to the breakfast parlour, feeling very like his own grandfather, who was widely reported to have been a harsh and exacting master, who bullied all of his servants, and thought nothing of throwing missiles at any elf who happened to annoy him.   
But his cruelty attained its object. When he ventured to go upstairs again to his bedchamber there was no sign of Dobby. The Duke trod over to his wardrobe and opened it.   
He seemed to have so many piles of clothing stacked on the shelves that he thought it unlikely that Dobby would notice any depredations, provided he took a few from various piles. He took a couple of jeans and some sweaters to be on the safe side, and began to hunt for pyjamas and socks. By the time he had made a selection among these, and had added a number of day robes, and other necessaries, to the heap on the bed, this had assumed formidable proportions, and he surveyed it rather doubtfully. By dint of asking an incurious under-footman for it, he had been able to procure a small satchel without incurring question, but he began to think that it was not going to be an easy task to shrink all of these articles of apparel into a convenient space. He was quite right. By the time he had achieved anything approaching a tolerable result he was slightly heated, and a good deal exasperated. And when he looked dispassionately at his satchel, he realised it would be quite impossible for him to walk out of his house carrying such a plebeian-looking pack. Then he bethought him that if he did not leave his house quickly he would very likely fall into the clutches of Professor Slughorn, and fright sharpened his wits. He sent for his personal footman, that splendid fellow who did not care a fig for what might become of him. When the man presented himself, he waved a careless hand towards the satchel and said: ‘Colin, you will oblige me, please, by carrying that package round to Captain Dursley’s chambers, and giving it into his man’s charge. Inform Fubster that it contains – that it contains some things I promised to send to Captain Dursley! Perhaps I had best send the Captain a note with it!’  
‘Very good, your Grace,’ said Colin, with a gratifying lack either of surprise or of interest.   
The Duke summoned some parchment and a quill and scrawled a brief message. ‘Dudley,’ he wrote, ‘pray keep this pack for me till I come to you this evening. Harry.’  
He neatly folded the parchment into an envelope and gave it to Colin. ‘And Colin!’ he said, rather shyly.  
‘Your Grace?’  
‘Do you think,’ said the Duke with a faint, rueful smile, ‘you can contrive to leave the house without Dobby’s seeing you, or Kreacher, or – or anyone?’  
‘Certainly, your Grace,’ said Colin woodenly.  
‘Thank you!’ said the Duke, with real gratitude.  
He would have been surprised had he been privileged to read the thoughts in the footman’s head. This impassive individual had not been a year in the employment of the gentlest-mannered master he had ever served without developing a lively sympathy for him. It was his opinion, freely expressed to his peers over butterbeer, that there was never a person so put upon as the Duke, and that it fair made a man’s blood boil to hear old Gundiguts and Muffin-face a-worriting him, not to mention my Lord Stiff-Rump, treating the young man to enough cross-and-jostle work to drive him to Mungo’s. So far from caring a fig for what became of the Duke, he was extremely curious to know what mischief he was up to, for mischief he would go bail it was. It would be a rare treat to slumguzzle Gundiguts and Muffin-face, and he was only sorry that his training forbade him to offer his master any further assistance he might need in hoodwinking them and all the rest of the household, rump and stump.  
The Duke drew his watch out, and glanced at it apprehensively. The menace of Professor Slughorn loomed large. He dived into his hanging wardrobe, found a long, black cloak with a deep hood and a simple silver clasp; and his treasured invisibility cloak, which he bundled up in one of the expanded pockets. He thought he might be glad of a scarf, so he searched for that too. He could not think of anything else that he might need, so having assured himself that the Malfoy-sealed card he had wrested from his unwilling cousin Draco was safely tucked into a different pocket, he left his room, and walked sedately down the staircase.   
The porter, who was sitting in a large leather chair by the front door, got up as soon as he saw him, and told him that a package had just been delivered at the house. This instantly put the duke in mind of the absolute necessity of taking a good pair of duelling holsters with him upon his hazardous adventure. In spite of the danger of being caught by Professor Slughorn, he was quite unable to resist the temptation of carrying the package into the library and unwrapping his purchase. The holsters, a really beautiful pair, lay snugly in their case, looking very slender and wicked. The Duke lifted one and tested its fit lovingly. No one could expect him to leave such peerless acquisitions behind! He unclasped his current holsters and slid them into the pocket with Malfoy’s card, and fastened the new holsters in prime position, telling himself that the countryside of Scotland would be the very place for a little practice.   
He went out into the hall again to find that Crouch had sailed into it from his quarters near the kitchen, attended by two footmen. Crouch wished to know if his Grace would be dining at home, and – with a glance at his Grace’s dragon-leather boots – whether his Grace desired a car to the duelling arena.   
‘No,’ said the Duke jauntily. ‘No, thank you, Mr Crouch. I do not desire anything at all. And if Professor Slughorn should floo-call – you do not know when I shall be returning.’  
‘Very good, your Grace,’ bowed Mr Crouch. ‘And when does your Grace expect to return?’  
The Duke smiled at him. ‘But if you knew that you would not be able to tell Professor Slughorn that you did not, would you?’ he said gently.  
Before Crouch had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to disabuse his master’s mind of its curious misapprehension, the Duke had left the house.  
His first objective was General Portkey Office, adjacent to the Ministry. He took the floo from the Leaky Cauldron, which was an adventure in itself, since he had never used public floo points before, but a disappointment awaited him at the Portkey Office, where he discovered that as most portkeys operated on very specific schedules to ensure no accidents, be must be prepared to have the soonest available one at half-past eight that evening. A burly citizen in dun-brown cloak took pity on is inexperience, and directed him to call upon the Knight Bus. He seemed amused when the Duke, thanking him, asked the way to summon the Bus and the fare he would be expected to pay, said that he was a regular first-blood and begged him not to let himself be misled by any Snatcher-types whom he might meet.   
The Duke, upon learning what would be expected of him when calling the Knight Bus, then went to the Public Owlery to post a letter procuring a room at the Three Broomsticks for when he arrived. Evading the urgent entreaties of a lady who held a bunch of horklumps under his nose, and refusing the offer of a one-legged man to sell him an enchanted doormat, he set off to look for a shop where he could buy an expanded bag.  
This was soon accomplished, and having arranged for the bag to be delivered at Captain Dursley’s chambers, the Duke was able to turn his attention to such minor matters as the purchase of soap, toothpaste and a razor. He was directed to a small, out of the way emporium, where he was most surprised to find for what a small sum he could buy a hair-brushes, hair-care potions and other such articles. In the end, he made so many small purchases that he was obliged once more to make use of his cousin’s chambers.   
It was just before eight, having whiled away the afternoon as best he could, that he entered the precincts of Diagon where his cousin’s apartments resided. As he strolled up the Alley, an acquaintance who was sallying forth in evening attire, levelled a stare at his boots and said: ‘Just arrived from duelling practice, I see, Duke! I did not know you were expected in town. Are you on your way to see your cousin? You will find him at home: I saw him come in above an hour ago.’  
‘I am dining with him,’ the Duke replied.  
‘Well, I shall see at Fortescue’s tomorrow, I daresay.’  
The Duke agreed to this somewhat mendaciously, and passed on.  
When he was admitted into Captain Dursley’s chambers, his cousin met him in the hall with a ribald demand to know whether he took his lodging for a receiving office.   
The Duke smiled up at him engagingly. ‘Oh, I could think of nowhere else to have them sent!’ he said. ‘You can have no notion how busy I have been!’  
‘But, Griffin, has it come to this, that you are obliged to fetch your linen home from the cleaners?’ asked Dudley, pointing to the satchel of shrunken clothing on the floor.   
‘So Colin contrived to smuggle it away! Good!’ said the Duke, casting off his cloak. ‘Dudley, I have slipped my leash!’  
‘Capital!’ approved his cousin. ‘Come and tell me the whole!’  
The Duke followed him into his sitting-room, but said: ‘Well, no! I think I will not, if you do not mind it very much!’  
‘Then tell me nothing at all,’ said Dudley, handing him a glass of pumpkin juice. ‘Not, believe me, Griffin, that I would cast the least difficulty your way!’  
The Duke, with the nature of his adventure in mind, was not so sure of this. His big cousin could be depended upon to aid and abet him in kicking off his irksome harness, but let him catch one whiff of Mr Dumbledore and his demands and he would without any doubt at all cast very much more than some difficulty in the way. So he smiled again, and sipped the pumpkin juice.   
Dudley, who knew that sweet, abstracted smile, said accusingly: ‘Griffin, you are brewing mischief!’  
‘Oh, no!’ said Harry. ‘I am just very tired of being myself, and I am going to take your advice, and try how I like being plain ‘Just Harry’. To be the Duke of Gryffindor is a dead bore!’  
‘I am aware. Did I so advise you? My father will my head on a pike!’  
‘Last night. I have made a start already, for I have been doing all manner of things that I never did before. A man I met earlier took me for a first-blood. And I think he was right, I am shockingly uninformed! But I shall soon learn. I am going out of town, you know.’  
‘So I had supposed. Does that ridiculous satchel carry your raiment?’  
‘Yes, and such a work I had to get it away without Dobby’s seeing it! Dudley, I think perhaps Dobby may seek me here. Do, pray, assure him that I am safe, and keep them all from flying into some absurd pucker!’  
‘You may rely on me, Griffin, - if not to do quite what you would wish – at least to afford your retinue no clue whatsoever to your whereabouts. In fact, I shall deny all knowledge of you.’  
‘Poor Dobby!’ said Harry. ‘I fear he will be in despair. I offended him this morning, and left him quite out of charity with me. I suppose it is a great deal too bad of me to put him in a fright, but I can’t bear it any longer, Dudley! They treat me as though I were a child, or an imbecile! I cannot move a step without one or other of them running to call for my thestral-carriage or hand me my gloves or ask me when I plan to return! Yes, yes, I know what you will say! But I cannot do it! I have made the attempt, but the devil of it is I can’t but remember how Mr Crouch used to give me ice mice when I was in disgrace, and how dear, old Kreacher told my uncle it was he who broke the window in Blue Drawing-Room, and how Dobby has nursed me whenever I have been ill – oh, and a hundred other things of the kind!’  
Dudley’s crooked smile flickered. ‘Very well. So, since you cannot bring yourself to tell them that you are a man, and can fend for yourself, you mean to show them that it is so. Is that it?’  
‘I suppose that it is. That is, I didn’t think of it, but perhaps it may answer! I only thought how much I wished to be free! But I own if the chance had not offered I should still be talking rubbish about being smothered and making not the least push to assert myself! I must be the dullest, most spiritless dog alive!’  
‘Oh, without a doubt!’ agreed Dudley. ‘But has this humdrum age suddenly offered you an adventure, Griffin? I had not believed it to be possible!’  
‘A very small adventure!’ said the Duke, laughing. ‘I have found something to do for myself, and perhaps I can do it, and perhaps I cannot, but at all events I mean to try. And for once in my life I am going to see how it would be not to be a Duke, with servants puffing off my consequence wherever I go, and toad-eaters agreeing with every ill-considered word I utter, and inn-keepers bowing until their noses touch their knees, and the common world saying nothing but Yes, your Grace! and No, your Grace! and As your Grace pleases! Do you think I shall make a sad botch of it?’  
‘No, little cousin, I think you have a very good understanding, and will manage tolerably well for yourself, but whether you will enjoy the experience of having no one to wait on you is another matter,’ grinned Dudley. ‘It won’t harm you, however; you have been kept well-wrapped in lamb’s wool for too long. I hope you will have very exciting adventures, and slay a great many chimaeras and basilisks. I wish I might see you!’  
‘Oh, no, that would never do!’ Harry said, shaking his head. ‘You would think me very slow in killing my dragon, and soon fall out of patience with me, and end by pushing me out of the way, and slaying the beast yourself!’ He added with a gleam of humour: ‘And I have a melancholy suspicion that if I had you within call I shouldn’t take the trouble to think of anything for myself. Oh, I am sure I should wait for you to tell me what I must do next, for that is always what I used to do, and habits, you know, are damnably hard to break! And you are a very peremptory, autocratic and overbearing fellow, Dudley!’  
‘Alas! Shall you give me a sharp-tongued insult when you come back from your adventure?’  
‘Very likely,’ said Harry, putting his empty glass down.   
Fubster came into the room to set the dishes on the table. His master told him that he need not wait, and the Duke said, as he took his seat: ‘How comfortable this is! Shall I carve the meat? I can, you know! Uncle Vernon says a man should know how to carve anything that is set before him. I can harvest wand-wood, too. Now, why do you suppose he should have thought I must learn a thing such as that? He is the strangest creature. How angry he will be with me when he hears what I have been up to! It makes me shake like a flutterby bush only to think of it.’  
‘Among the many odd fancies that come into my head, Griffin,’ said his cousin dryly, ‘is the fancy – I have often been conscious of it! – that in spite of your supposed meekness you do not shake like a flutterby bush before my father!’  
‘No, of course I don’t: he means well, after all. But I do not like when he storms at me, and arguing with him gives me a headache. I always try to slip away, and being so small and unremarkable I can generally manage to do so,’ said the Duke serenely.   
Dudley smiled. ‘Your elusive ways are well known to me, sneak that you are with that cloak of yours. And, by Merlin, it is just what you are doing, now that I come to think of it! Don’t try to confound me with your hints of adventures to be embarked on! You are merely slipping away with rather more purpose than usual. What lying story have you fobbed your devoted servants off with?’  
The Duke looked up with a rather guilty twinkle in his eyes. ‘Well, to tell you the truth, I haven’t,’ he confessed. ‘You cannot slip away unobserved if you tell people you mean to go!’  
‘Harry, for Mordred’s sake! Have you left them without a word?’ exclaimed Dudley.  
The Duke nodded. For a moment sat staring at him with furrowed brows. Then he burst out laughing. ‘It’s the maddest quirk I ever heard tell of, and who – who would have guessed that you had it in you to do it?’ he said. ‘Griffin, I no longer despair of you! You will undoubtedly set your whole household by the ears, from my father down to your lowliest footman, and it will do them a great deal of good! Don’t come back too soon! Let them learn their lesson past fear of forgetting it: you may then enjoy some peace hereafter. Fill up your glass! We’ll have a toast to your emancipation!’  
The Duke obeyed, and pushed the jug across the table. ‘No we shall drink to the adventures of ‘Just Harry’!’ he said.  
‘Anything you please!’ grinned his cousin, and tossed off his juice with a flourish.   
The Duke followed suit. As he lowered his glass, the ring on his finger caught his eye. He drew it off. ‘Keep that for me!’ he said, handing it to Dudley. ‘It quite ruins my disguise!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter loaded so quickly for a while, as RL is about to kick me in the face starting Monday. I'll try to keep the updating as regular as possible, but no promises.


	8. A Duke by Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An uncomfortable Knight and a brief respite. Everyone wants to adopt Harry, he's just that adorable.

CHAPTER 8:  
The Duke did not enjoy a very restful night’s repose during his trip on the Knight Bus. The feather-bed upon which he twisted and turned seemed to be composed largely of lumps; and the sliding, twisting and sudden stops left a lot to be desired. The noise throughout the trip was a trial in itself.   
He had remained with his cousin until an advanced hour, and was consequently tired when he summoned the bus. If he had owned the truth to himself, which he absolutely refused to do, he would not have been ill-pleased to have found Dobby waiting for him at his destination, ready to unpack and help him settle for some proper rest. Had Dobby been with him, he would have found his familiar belongings already laid out for him – but had Dobby been with him he would not, of course, have been travelling on the Knight Bus at all. The Duke firmly banished Dobby from his mind, and turned over in his bed.   
Resigning himself to little rest, he got himself ready as best he could for disembarking and proceeded to gaze outside the window at the lightening sky. Observing the activities going on around him, he was so much entertained that any regrets he might have had that he had embarked on such an impulsive adventure left him.  
The bus was currently travelling through what seemed to be Dublin, racing with seeming disregard for all other road users through the pre-dawn streets. The Duke’s eyes widened as sharp corners were taken without any decrease in speed, until it seemed the bus could scarcely escape an inevitable overturn at some point in the journey.   
Meanwhile, the conductor, a pimpled youth stood at the doors, enjoying a flirtation with a young female passenger whose mother looked a pale shade of green beside her. The passengers were most of them engaged in maintaining what little dignity they could while travelling on the Knight Bus. One or two of the travellers, notably a thin man, muffled in a winter cloak, a scarf and a plaid shawl, seemed inclined to be querulous; and two elderly ladies were fast driving the driver to distraction with their repeated and shrill admonishments to mind his directions to their locations.  
The morning was damp and misty, by then. A nearby older passenger genially assured the Duke that the day was going to be a rare fine one.  
The stops seemed to come with more frequency as the sun rose and all too soon, the bus screeched to a halt in the main street of Hogsmeade. Of course, that was being rather generous as the village of Hogsmeade only really had one street regardless.  
The conductor, in a cheerful mood after the sizable tip the Duke had bestowed upon him, unearthed the Duke’s luggage and unloaded it at his feet where he stood outside The Three Broomsticks. His Grace was left standing with it, waiting for someone to run out and carry it into the inn before realizing that The Three Broomsticks was not exactly the kind of establishment that had staff falling over themselves to wait upon guests. So the Duke was obliged to carry it into the inn himself.   
The front door opened into a passage, leading at the back of the premises into a lobby, from which the stairs rose to the upper floor. The tap-room gave on to the passage.   
The Duke set down his bag, and as he did so a door opened at the back of the house, and a rather fetching older woman issued forth. She greeted the Duke civilly, but sharply, saying: ‘Good-day, sir, and what may I do for you?’  
‘I have owled ahead to hire a room?’ said the Duke, with his gentle dignity.  
Her eyes ran over him. ‘Yes, sir. How long would you be staying, if I may ask?’  
‘I am not perfectly sure. A day or two, perhaps.’  
Her quick scrutiny having taken in every detail of the quiet elegance which characterized his dress, she directed her gaze to his face. She seemed to like what she saw there, and allowed her features to relax their severity. She said, still briskly, but in a tone that held a hint of motherliness: ‘I see, sir. A nice front bedchamber you would like, and a private parlour, I daresay. You won’t care to be sitting in that noisy tap-room.’  
The Duke thanked her, and said that he thought he should be glad of the parlour.  
‘Come from London on the Bus, sir?’ said Madam Rosmerta. ‘Noisy racketing thing, it is! Shaking all your bone together until you’re fair wore-out with holding on to the bed post to stop yourself falling off. I can see you’re tired, sir: you look downright haggard!’  
‘Oh, no!’ Harry said, blushing faintly. ‘I have just a touch of the headache, that is all.’  
‘I’ll send up a pot of tea directly, sir, for there’s nothing like it, and I’ve a kettle right on the boil at this very moment. Myself, I could never abide the way that bus sways over the road: it makes a body’s stomach rise up against them, and that’s the truth. Morag! Wayne! Take up the young gentleman’s bag to No. 1, Wayne: and you, my girl, get some kindling and set a fire going in the Holly Parlour! Bustle about, now! Don’t stand there gawping!’  
‘Thank you, but I shan’t need a fire: it is quite warm,’ said Harry.  
‘You’ll be more comfortable with a bit of a blaze in the grate, sir,’ said Madame Rosmerta firmly. ‘Very treacherous these autumn days are, and you don’t look very stout to me, if you will pardon my liberty. But no need to be afraid of damp sheets in my house, and if you should happen to fancy a hot posset before going to bed you have only to pull the bell, and I shall brew it for you, and with pleasure.’  
The Duke perceived suddenly that he had escaped from Dobby only to fall into the clutches of Madam Rosmerta, and gave an involuntary laugh. Madame Rosmerta smiled kindly at him, and said: ‘Ah, you’re feeling better now your stomach’s beginning to settle, sir! I’ll take you up to your bedchamber. And the name is Mungo, is that right?’  
‘Yes,’ replied Harry, having chosen one of his titles at random. ‘Mr Evan Mungo.’  
‘Very good, sir, and mine is Madam Rosmerta, if you should want to call me at any time, which I beg you will do if there is anything you would like. This way, if you’ll be so good!’  
He followed her upstairs to a wood-panelled room overlooking the street. The furniture was all old-fashioned, but everything seemed to be clean, and the bed looked as if it might be comfortable. He laid his cloak down, and pressed his hands over his eyes for a moment, before casting off his knitted scarf. Madame Rosmerta, observing this unconscious gesture, instantly recommended him to lay himself down upon the bed, and promised to fetch up a pain-reliever. The Duke, who knew from bitter experience that the only cure for his shattering headaches was to lie in a darkened room, said that he would go to bed for a little while, but declined the pain-reliever. But Madame Rosmerta seemed to be made of the same stuff as his old nurse, so he was not really much surprised when she re-entered the room shortly afterwards carrying the promised pain-reliever as well as casting a mild warming charm on the sheets. Wayne shortly appeared thereafter with a tea-tray; and Morag was sent off to fetch up the honey, so that the poor young gentleman could remove the taste of the pain-reliever from his mouth.   
With three people ministering to him, the Duke could almost have fancied himself back at Grimmauld Place, and although a spiked bludger seemed to be rocketing around behind his eyes, he could not help giving another of his soft laughs. Madame Rosmerta stood over him while he drank his tea, telling him that her nephew, who was in a very good way of business in Ireland, had suffered from just such sick headaches when he was a lad, but had grown out of them, as Mr Mungo would doubtless do also. She then flicked her wand at the curtains to draw them across the window, levitated the tea tray, and departed, leaving Harry divided between annoyance at his own weakness and amusement at her evident adoption of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for being away from the site for so long. 2018 has been a particularly difficult year.


End file.
